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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720343">live every type of secret</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewminyards/pseuds/andrewminyards'>andrewminyards</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon-Typical Violence, Fae Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Falling In Love, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Injury Recovery, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Pining, Protective Jaskier, Secret Identity, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, protective Geralt, side characters Eskel Lambert Vesemir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:54:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewminyards/pseuds/andrewminyards</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt of Rivia is not a witcher. </p><p>He’d chosen to disguise himself as a witcher in an attempt to bring something <i>more</i> to his life, to find the contentment he so desperately desires. But as much as life on the Path thrills him, there’s still something <i>missing</i> - until Jaskier. </p><p>Jaskier brings so much light into his life with his songs and laughter, treating Geralt without fear, with kindness and gentleness - he’s like no one else Geralt has ever met, and Geralt can’t help but be drawn into his irresistible orbit. </p><p>What he doesn’t know is that Jaskier is hiding secrets of his own. </p><p><b>Or:</b> Neither Geralt nor Jaskier are who they seem, and secrets are brought to light when Geralt’s family is threatened and Jaskier is the only one who can help.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>GRB2020 Team Works</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hellooo here's my piece for the geraskier reverse bang! it features some witcher jaskier and fae geralt, and some <a href="https://brothebro.tumblr.com/post/644211128750292992/my-second-art-piece-for-the-geraskier-reverse-big">incredible art by brothebro</a>! enjoy&lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It all starts with Lambert saying, “I have an idea.”</p><p>Geralt is immediately wary. Lambert saying those words is never a good sign - in fact, it usually ends in chaos whenever Lambert comes up with some insanely idiotic scheme or some convoluted plan, and having being entangled in Lambert’s schemes enough times over the past decades, Geralt knows better than to trust these four dreaded words coming out of Lambert’s mouth.</p><p>Eskel passes one hand over his eyes, looking as wary as Geralt feels. “What is your idea?”</p><p>“Well,” Lambert begins, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes. “I know I’m not the only one who has started finding all this,” he waves his hand around them, gesturing at the opulent walls of the palace, gesturing out the window towards the eternal sprawl of winter covering the land, “rather… dull.”</p><p>Geralt is even more on edge than he was before. If Lambert is finding their court dull, if Lambert has started getting <em>bored</em>… “What are you saying?”</p><p>“We’ve been cooped up here for decades, and don’t get me wrong, our realm is a wonderful place to be,” Lambert says. “But I feel like we’ve pretty much exhausted everything interesting in our court and in our realm, and now, don’t you feel like there’s just - nothing to do?”</p><p>Lambert is right - their realm is large and full of interesting things, filled with wonders around every corner, but Geralt has found that he’s gotten rather restless in the recent years, as if the realm isn’t quite enough, as if he isn’t content with what he has, as if he’s itching for something <em>more</em>. But Geralt isn’t going to admit that, not when he still doesn’t know what Lambert is planning, so he stays silent, letting Lambert continue.</p><p>“So I was thinking that we should go to the human world.”</p><p>Eskel sputters, and Geralt can’t stop his mouth from falling open. <em>What</em>.</p><p>“The <em>human world?</em>” Eskel asks incredulously, gaping at Lambert. “Why would you want to go there?”</p><p>“It’s different, and I’ve heard that it’s interesting.” Lambert starts pacing around the room, a restlessness in his steps that Geralt recognises in himself. “I know Vesemir warns us away from it, telling us that the human world is not a place we would ever want to go to, but I think - I think it’ll be something different. A change from what we’re used to here.”</p><p>“So you want us to just - venture into the human world and let the humans come after us,” Geralt says dryly. He’s heard the stories. He knows that humans tend to be suspicious and even hateful of those outside of their own kind, and that humans have massacred and driven away those that they deem other - Geralt doesn’t see why Lambert thinks it would be safe for them to go to the human realm, when they are so clearly inhuman and <em>other</em>. </p><p>“And what makes you think it’ll be any more interesting than here?” Eskel doesn’t look convinced, staring at Lambert’s pacing form. “Why risk ourselves and go there?”</p><p>“Okay, now hear me out,” Lambert says, stopping his pacing to look them in the eyes, and Geralt resigns himself to yet another of Lambert’s crazy ideas. “We won’t be going as ourselves, of course. That would be too risky. But if we glamour ourselves as humans to go there, we wouldn’t be having <em>fun</em>. So here’s what I suggest. You know of witchers?”</p><p>“Witchers,” Geralt echoes flatly, and Lambert nods. </p><p>“They slay monsters. And I suggest - don’t give me that look, Eskel, hear me out - that we go to the human world, glamour ourselves as witchers, then go around hunting monsters and travel and see the human realm. I know that it’s risky and dangerous and we could die, but we’ve been trained to fight - we’re more powerful than a measly monster.”</p><p>Eskel frowns. “Lambert -”</p><p>“Come on.” Lambert urges, leaning forward. “It’ll be fun. It’ll be exciting. When was the last time we did something fun?”  </p><p>“Fun - this will be <em>dangerous</em>, Lambert,” Eskel objects, but Geralt knows him well enough to tell that he’s at least half-convinced. And so is Geralt, damn it. Life <em>has</em> been rather dull for the last couple of years, and Geralt and his brothers have never done well with such monotony - they’re always itching for adventure, itching for more. </p><p>Lambert waves a dismissive hand. “We’re powerful enough that it won’t matter, and Vesemir has trained us well with swords and weapons. We’ll be <em>fine</em>.”</p><p>“We have a duty to our realm,” Geralt objects weakly, but he knows as well as his brothers that it’s a weak argument. They are princes of the Winter Court, sure, but their realm runs itself - Vesemir is a kind, fair king, and their people respect them, going about their business with barely a complaint. Besides, their realm is filled with immortals who have no quarrel with their court, and they’re at peace with the other courts - Geralt and his brothers are princes in name only, barely playing any role in running their realm, not because they are incapable, but because the realm itself needs no running. </p><p>“Please,” Lambert drawls, rolling his eyes. “What duty? When was the last time we dealt with court politics? When was the last time our realm needed us? We can always return if something happens. Don’t give me that excuse, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt grits his teeth. He shouldn’t give in. He knows he shouldn’t, but gods does he want something <em>more</em>, something that will fill his life with new and wonderful experiences, something that will bring him contentment, and one look at Eskel tells him that his brother is thinking the same. Lambert’s words are <em>tempting</em>, and Geralt can tell that Eskel is similarly convinced - so he gives in. </p><p>“Fine,” Geralt grunts out, and Lambert flashes him a triumphant, victorious grin, clearly pleased with himself at having convinced Geralt and Eskel. “You get to tell Vesemir, though. It’s your idea, after all.”</p><p>A look of apprehension that crosses Lambert’s face at the prospect of having to tell Vesemir about this insane, risky plan, and Geralt takes slight relish in it - it’s Lambert’s plan, and it’s only right that he’s the one to convince Vesemir and weather his wrath.</p>
<hr/><p>Vesemir is, predictably, not happy with Lambert’s plan, snapping at them for being foolish, reckless idiots </p><p>It takes hours of needling on Lambert’s part before Vesemir reluctantly gives in, more because he wants Lambert to stop annoying him rather than because he approves of the plan, all while Geralt and Eskel watch Lambert get increasingly desperate until he finally succeeds in winning Vesemir over.</p><p>With Vesemir’s approval, they start preparing for their journey to the human world. They do their research, reading up on witchers and how they operate, reading up on how they fight monsters - with their swords, with the special brand of witcher magic, with potions. When they find out that witchers are divided into schools, Lambert suggests that they pretend to be from one of the existing schools, but Geralt points out that this would become a problem if they were to encounter a witcher from that school, so they decide to come up with their own - the School of the Wolf. </p><p>If a witcher from another school were to approach them, it would prove tricky for them to pass as witchers, but a witcher from a new school, whose mode of operation is different from other witchers? Other witchers might find it strange, but Geralt supposes that he can make up a believable excuse that doesn’t reveal who they actually are. The existence of their realm is a secret - the fae are nothing more than a myth in the human world - and they need to keep it that way. </p><p>And with that they set out for the human world, their pointed ears hidden under a glamour, their eyes glamoured to golden with slit pupils, armour covering their bodies, medallions gleaming on their chests, swords strapped to their backs - one silver, one steel. </p><p>But they quickly find out that life as a witcher isn’t easy. When they approach a human settlement, they’re greeted with wariness, parents pulling their children closer, humans scuttling out of their way with disgust in their eyes. Even after they slay the monster plaguing the town, they’re still treated warily, like they hadn’t just saved the town, like they’re outsiders, like they’re only slightly better than the monsters they’d just slayed. </p><p>It’s almost enough to make Geralt consider giving up and returning to the Winter Court - what point is there to roaming the human world if humans hate him? But there’s something about humans, something about the spark and energy of their short lives; something about the human world, with its ever-changing lands and its creatures and beasts and the unpredictability of nature, draws Geralt in, makes him want to know more, makes him want to <em>stay</em>. </p><p>So the three of them stay, splitting off from one another to wander the Continent, and Geralt goes from town to village, taking contracts and killing monsters. It’s nothing like anything Geralt has done before - every hunt, every fight is new and different, challenging him in a way that the creatures in his realm never had. Drowners, griffins, bruxae - they all crumple beneath his silver sword, and it’s so <em>satisfying</em> to swing his sword through the air and watch it arc downwards to cleave a monstrous body apart. </p><p>There’s something so <em>free</em> about the Path, even with how much humans fear and ostracise him. The beauty of the human world lies in how <em>ephemeral </em>everything is, how flowers wilt and trees crumble, how rivers dry up and mountains are eroded into the ground - how everything is touched by time, how life is lost and death is inevitable. </p><p>It’s so different from the still, unchanging permanence of his realm - and it’s oddly freeing, bringing Roach through colourful meadows of flowers that he knows will one day disappear, watching stars twinkle in the sky and wondering when their fire will burn out. It makes him appreciate every flower he comes across, every animal that crosses his Path, knowing that they will one day be gone.</p><p>Observing humans - going into towns, mingling amongst them - is just as fascinating. Humans hate him - they hate what they do not know and understand, and witchers are a mystery to them. Humans live such short lives, and they burn so brightly in the short decades that they live for - they burn bright with hate, with love, with joy and anger and sadness, their emotions intense in a way that only finite beings can have. </p><p>Everything in the human realm is so temporary. Nothing is eternal; everything changes, nothing stays the same, and it’s this mercurial nature of the human realm that keeps drawing Geralt in, that keeps him from returning home, that leaves him wanting more of this changing, impermanent world.</p><p>He never thought he would want to linger in the human world - he thought he would get tired of it, or the hate from humans would manage to drive him away. But Lambert had been right - staying in the human word as a witcher is far more interesting than the endless days back in his realm. </p><p>And so Geralt stays on the Path.</p><p>It all goes well. Geralt manages to avoid running into witchers from other schools, and he returns home in the winter to meet with his brothers and spend time with Vesemir, before they set out on the Path in spring once again. His life is no longer dull, filled with the unpredictable danger of the Path with his home as his refuge in winter, and Geralt finds himself enjoying his life, like he’s getting closer and closer to the contentment he’s been grasping for his entire life. </p><p>Until - </p><p>There’s a young woman in Blaviken, and a sorcerer. Geralt isn’t an actual witcher, he doesn’t know what the witcher code is when dealing with humans, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to <em>do</em>, whether he’s supposed to get involved or stay neutral or -</p><p>Renfri bleeds out in his arms, the light leaving her eyes. The folk of Blaviken scream at him, hurling objects at his back as he leaves, and gods, he’s really fucked up this time, hasn’t he?</p><p>Geralt returns to the Path, desperate to put the incident out of his mind, but word spreads, and towns and villages start whispering of the Butcher of Blaviken, the witcher with white hair and golden eyes. The hate from humans, while bearable before, intensifies, and he’s thrown out of inns and taverns with jeers and insults, left to spend nights on the side of the road with only a feeble fire for warmth. </p><p>Though the rush he gets from slaying monsters remains the same, the enjoyment seeps from the Path, his journeys becoming harder and more wearisome, and Geralt starts wondering whether he should give up this whole ordeal of being a witcher and return to court, fulfilling his duties alongside Vesemir. The Path doesn’t give him the same joy it used to, not with how harshly he’s treated wherever he goes - the residents of Posada glare at him, sneers on their faces as they edge away from him, and Geralt grits his teeth.</p><p>Perhaps he truly should return. It would be better for his brothers’ journeys too, if the Butcher of Blaviken were to miraculously disappear.</p><p>He turns the idea over in his head, contemplating the idea of returning home, until a voice cuts through his thoughts. </p><p>“I love the way you just… sit in the corner and brood.”</p><p>Geralt glares up at the bard who’d dared to interrupt his thoughts, silently willing him to go away, to leave. There’s something strange about the bard, something almost magical that tickles at Geralt’s senses, but it disappears quickly, and Geralt dismisses it as nothing. </p><p>The bard babbles on and on and <em>on</em> and before Geralt can fully process what’s happening, they somehow manage to get captured by elves, with the bard still by Geralt’s side even when they escape the elves’ grasp, Filavandrel’s lute held in the bard’s hand.</p><p>Geralt tries to shake him off. He should return to his realm, and the last thing he needs is a loud, irritating bard following him around, singing his praises. But no matter what Geralt does, Jaskier somehow always returns to his side, and Geralt finds himself getting less and less irritated with Jaskier’s presence by his side. </p><p>Jaskier - he reminds Geralt of why he’d chosen to stay in the human world as a witcher rather than return home. Not only has human hatred towards him lessened with the popularity of <em>Toss a Coin</em>, but Jaskier brings back all the beauty of the human world that Blaviken had dulled for him. </p><p>Jaskier sings of the beauty of the world around them, gasping delightedly at sparkling waterfalls and smiling softly at small animals darting through dense bushes, taking joy in every little thing, and for the first time since Blaviken, Geralt regains appreciation of the world surrounding the Path, starting to see it all the way Jaskier sees it - through the eyes of a human whose life is just as temporary as the surrounding world. </p><p>And Jaskier himself - he’s fickle, changeable, wearing his emotions plain and clear, and Geralt is drawn in by the complexity of him. Geralt witnesses the way Jaskier can be petty, turning his nose up at Valdo Marx, the way he radiates fury when villagers spit <em>Butcher</em> at Geralt, the way he brightens with joy when Geralt talks to him, the way he smiles gently at a young child clinging to his legs. He’s everything that Geralt had originally found fascinating in the human world - he’s complex, he’s <em>human</em>, and Geralt can’t help but be drawn into the irresistible pull of his orbit. </p><p>Jaskier makes the Path so much more vibrant, bringing <em>meaning </em>back into it, and Geralt wakes up one day to realise that he has no desire to return home permanently. He wants to stay on the Path, with Jaskier by his side reminding him of the beauty of the human realm, with Jaskier’s songs and smiles and laughter.</p><p>He’s unlike any other human Geralt has ever met. He seems so much <em>brighter</em>. All humans know that they might die someday, of course, but Jaskier seems to live every day like it’s his last, making the most of every moment and crafting each day into something he can take joy in, not wasting a single second. </p><p>He never displays any fear or hostility towards Geralt - which is strange, considering all the humans he’s met have feared or hated him in some manner, and Jaskier shouldn’t be an exception. But no matter what Geralt does, Jaskier never turns away from him, not when he watches Geralt slay monsters with savage ruthlessness, not when he catches a glimpse of Geralt’s face after he’s taken his potions, not when Geralt snaps at him in a moment of lost temper. </p><p>And it’s - nice. It’s nice to have someone who doesn’t fear or hate him in the human world. It’s nice to have someone who - who <em>cares</em> for him, who cares for him enough to look out for him on his hunts, to patch up his wounds after a contract. Geralt doesn’t actually need Jaskier to patch him up - he can heal himself with his own magic - but there’s something so damn <em>nice</em> about having Jaskier’s gentle hands tending to his wounds as he hums soothingly under his breath, to have Jaskier fuss over him like a mother hen and reprimand him for being careless. </p><p>Before Jaskier, no one in the human world had cared for Geralt in such a way. But with Jaskier here, Geralt basks in Jaskier’s tender care and gentle affection, so different from the way his brothers and Vesemir care for him, so different from anything he’s experienced, and he finds himself craving the gentleness of Jaskier’s touch, the affection in his eyes and smile. </p><p>No other human has ever treated him the way Jaskier treats him. It’s almost odd, and Jaskier certainly is a rather eccentric human being - he talks, and talks, and talks, flitting from one topic to the next. He isn’t afraid to ask Geralt questions, asking about his life, about his <em>witchering</em>, as Jaskier puts it.</p><p>Geralt never quite knows what to answer. He isn’t a true witcher, after all. He can’t tell Jaskier about his realm, about who he truly is, so he evades the questions, vaguely answering Jaskier’s pointed probing at the School of the Wolf. </p><p>Jaskier is the only one who’s dared to bring up the fact that the Wolf School isn’t one of the major witcher schools. He’s also the only person who somehow seems to realise that Geralt’s potions aren’t those of a typical witcher, and Geralt can never give a straight answer whenever Jaskier questions him. There have been some brave humans who’ve dared to ask him about being a witcher, but none as daring as Jaskier, who’s the only one unafraid of probing deeper, asking more, undeterred by Geralt’s menacing glare. </p><p>The way Jaskier pushes should deter Geralt from staying with him, but it doesn’t - Jaskier’s complete lack of fear and the way he pushes Geralt actually endears him to Geralt, as much as he struggles to evade Jaskier’s questions sometimes, because Jaskier always notices if Geralt gets uncomfortable at his pushing and backs off when he does, and it cements the fact that Jaskier isn’t afraid to interact with him, to treat him as just another person, to treat him as a <em>friend</em>. </p><p>And that’s what Jaskier is. A friend. Geralt has denied this before, but he knows that Jaskier is more than a mere travel companion - he’s Geralt’s friend, someone who cares for him, who gets enraged at those who spit insults at him and is willing to fight townsfolk on his behalf, who talks to him and smiles at him, who knows when he needs space and when he needs comfort. </p><p>Geralt grows fond of having Jaskier around. Not just for how much easier Jaskier makes it for him to enter towns and villages without humans displaying outright hostility towards him, but for how much happier Geralt is around him. Before Jaskier, Geralt had been alone on the Path, and even back in his realm, he’d never truly found joy the way Jaskier brings joy into his life. </p><p>They don’t always travel together, of course - Geralt returns home in the winter, and during the rest of the year, Jaskier flits off occasionally to perform at some noble household or return to Oxenfurt - but each time Geralt is left alone, he feels so inexplicably empty, like Jaskier had barged into his life, bright and loud, carved out a place in Geralt’s heart and never quite left. </p><p>Geralt has gotten used to Jaskier by his side, chattering away about whatever catches his fancy, humming to himself and strumming his lute, a constant, soothing presence. He’s gotten used to how bright the Path becomes when Jaskier is with him, and when Jaskier is gone, Geralt always, always misses him.</p><p>The first time they part for longer than a few months, Geralt comes to realise how much Jaskier means to him when they reunite, a smile splitting Jaskier’s face as he yanks Geralt into a tight hug, murmuring <em>I missed you</em>. </p><p>They separate, but they always come back to each other, and Geralt finds himself yearning to reunite with Jaskier after each separation. He hadn’t meant to get himself attached to a human, to someone whose life is but a blink of his own, someone who he will outlive, and Geralt knows that this attachment will eventually hurt him, but he can’t bring himself to create distance between them. </p><p>He <em>should</em>. It would be better if he did - attachment is dangerous. But Geralt can’t bear to part from the warmth of Jaskier’s smiles, the lilt of his songs. He can’t bear to put an end to the affectionate way Jaskier touches him, to the excited glint in Jaskier’s eyes when he catches sight of something new and beautiful. </p><p>Geralt can hear Vesemir’s voice in his mind, warning him not to get attached to a human, who will inevitably wither and die and leave Geralt shattered and hurt. For some time, Geralt tries to push Jaskier away, tries to distance himself by hurtling barbed words at Jaskier, shying away from his touches, but it doesn’t last long, because he can’t stand seeing the hurt in Jaskier’s eyes when Geralt’s harsh words hit hard and hit home, the confusion in his expression when Geralt flinches away from his touch. </p><p>So Geralt lets himself sway closer and closer. He lets himself get attached. He grows protective of Jaskier, pulling him away from getting into fights in taverns, ensuring that he’s safe when Geralt goes on hunts, paying extra attention to Jaskier’s needs on the Path. </p><p>He’s never felt like this around anyone before. This warmth, this joy that Jaskier brings him, that feeling in his chest like a flower unfurling, a feeling that manifests whenever Jaskier gives him that smile reserved only for him, whenever Jaskier throws his head back and laugh, bright and wild and free, whenever Jaskier curls up against him at night, intimate and trusting in a way that causes Geralt’s heart to stutter, because there’s never been anyone else like Jaskier, who cares for him and trusts him so honestly, so openly. </p><p>He’s attached. Too attached - this feeling in his chest is as heady as it is dangerous, and Geralt is acutely reminded of its danger whenever Jaskier gets in the way of a hunt, because humans are fragile, prone to injury and death in a way Geralt isn’t. Jaskier is human, and Geralt could lose him so easily - he doesn’t even want to comprehend the possibility, doesn’t want to accept it, but the fact remains: Jaskier is human. Geralt is not. </p><p>And this feeling - this warmth, this sweetness and fondness and affection and something edging dangerously close to love - this feeling is dangerous, because it means that Geralt might break if he were to lose Jaskier, and he could lose Jaskier <em>so damn easily</em>. </p><p>But Geralt is weak, and he craves this warmth, craves Jaskier’s smiles, craves his touch and affection and utter tenderness. He is weak, and he lets this feeling grow, lets it bloom brighter and burn fiercer in his chest, falling deeper and deeper into Jaskier’s orbit even as the voice of Vesemir in his mind screams at him not to. </p><p>It’s dangerous. So, so dangerous. But it’s everything that Geralt loves about the human world, with its brightness and unpredictability and joy, and something about it makes him feel so utterly <em>content</em> - Geralt will be damned if he lets himself withdraw from what might be the best thing that has ever happened to him. </p><p>And so he stays with Jaskier, for months and years and decades, stays with him until their lives are tangled together, until Geralt has been drawn completely into the bright, vibrant presence that is Jaskier, until that feeling has bloomed to encompass his very being, glowing with warmth whenever he’s with Jaskier - glowing with the warmth of love, of home.</p>
<hr/><p>Geralt is with Jaskier somewhere in Redania when Vesemir finds him in a dream.</p><p>“You need to come home, Geralt,” Vesemir says urgently, looking like he’s aged several years despite being immortal, the edges of his form blurry in the haze of Geralt’s dream. “You and Eskel and Lambert - we need you.”</p><p>“What -”</p><p>“Come <em>home</em>,” Vesemir repeats before his form disappears, and Geralt is yanked back into the realm of consciousness, head spinning as Jaskier slumbers on next to him, still and unaware of what had transpired in Geralt’s sleeping mind.</p><p>What had <em>that</em> been?</p><p>Vesemir has never asked Geralt to return to their realm when he’s on the Path - Geralt always returns in the winter, after all, and the time he spends away from home is nothing in the life of an immortal. But there had been an urgency and desperation in Vesemir’s voice that sets Geralt on high alert, the memory of Vesemir’s harried expression causing dread to drip in his gut.</p><p>Something must be wrong back home. He needs to go back. </p><p>Geralt glances at Jaskier, whose face is relaxed and open in sleep, curled up in his bedroll and cuddling his lute to his chest, and his heart pangs at the thought of having to tell Jaskier that he’s leaving, that they will need to separate, that he has no idea when they’ll meet again. Gods, he’d been looking forward to this - travelling with Jaskier, sharing smiles around a campfire, the soft murmur of Jaskier’s voice as he stitches up Geralt’s wounds - but he has a duty to his family, a duty to his realm, that he cannot ignore, and as much as he wants to stay, he knows that he can’t.</p><p>He doesn’t sleep that night, packing his supplies as he fabricates and discards various excuses to tell Jaskier when he wakes up. Jaskier had wanted to bring Geralt to some music festival in the heart of Redania, and he’d been so <em>excited</em>, his face alight with anticipation as he’s babbled about the people and the music and <em>it’s going to be so fun, Geralt, I can’t wait to show you</em> -</p><p>Jaskier is going to be so disappointed when he wakes up, and Geralt dreads telling him, dreads the inevitable crestfallen look on his face when Geralt tells him that he needs to leave. Jaskier’s smiles bring so much light to Geralt’s life, so much brightness to the human world, and Geralt never wants to be the one to take that away - except he will be, this time, and he hates himself for it. </p><p>It’s necessary - Vesemir needs him, his people need him - but Geralt doesn’t have to like it, not when it means leaving Jaskier behind. </p><p>That dreadful feeling intensifies when Jaskier wakes up, face brightening when he catches sight of Geralt, and gods, how is Geralt going to do this? </p><p>He agonises over this for several minutes as Jaskier slowly gets ready, dread curling tighter and tighter in his gut, until he finally cuts off Jaskier’s soft humming, blurting out, “I need to leave.”</p><p>Jaskier stops humming, blinking slowly at him in confusion. “What?”</p><p>“I need to leave,” Geralt repeats, and Jaskier stares blankly at him before continuing to shove his things into his pack.</p><p>“Alright, let’s leave then.”</p><p>“No,” Geralt grunts out, hating what he’s about to say. “I have to go, uh, alone.”</p><p>The smile falls from Jaskier’s face.</p><p>“Oh,” Jaskier mumbles, looking down at his boots, and Geralt aches to do something, <em>anything</em> to bring that smile back onto his face. “Uh. Right.”</p><p>Geralt swallows. “I have some - witcher business to attend to.” The lie burns coming out of his mouth, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. He wants so desperately to tell Jaskier the truth, but their realm is kept secret for a reason, and as much as Geralt trusts Jaskier, his loyalty lies with his kingdom first. “It’s urgent, and I need to leave as soon as possible.”</p><p>“Witcher business,” Jaskier echoes slowly, his expression suddenly unreadable as he stares back up at Geralt with scrutinising eyes, and Geralt realises how flimsy his excuse is, how it must sound to Jaskier - like Geralt is fishing for an excuse to leave him behind, like Geralt wants for them to part ways, and he wants to take it back, wants to retract it, but his mind is fuzzy, it’s blank, he can’t think of any other excuse and he <em>hates</em> the way Jaskier’s lips are downturned, the way his expression is stony, but he can’t -</p><p>“Yes.” Fuck, he hates lying to Jaskier, hates leaving Jaskier alone like this. “I’m sorry. It’s something that I - it isn’t safe for humans. So. I need to go alone.”</p><p>“I see. Well. I guess I’ll see you - whenever you’re done with your… witcher business, then.”</p><p>Geralt can’t make out what Jaskier is feeling about this, unable to tell what he’s thinking, and it’s all he wants to do to reach out and bring the smile back to Jaskier’s face.</p><p>“I…” Geralt trails off, not knowing what to say to make it better. He <em>wants</em> to make it better, he really does, but words have never been his strong point, and they fail him once again as he watches Jaskier finish packing up. “Yeah, I’ll - I’ll see you. Have fun at the festival.”</p><p>“I will,” Jaskier says, sending him a smile that seems far too shallow and brittle, a dim echo of his usual vibrant smiles. “I wish you luck with this mysterious witcher business you have to attend to.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Geralt mumbles, but he doesn’t move from his spot, staring at Jaskier. Jaskier stares back at him, and when Geralt realises that Jaskier isn’t going to give him a response, he slowly turns away, fists clenched tight around his pack, and heaves himself onto Roach, heart heavy. </p><p>He takes one last look at Jaskier, and Geralt tells himself to say <em>something</em> to make it better, to lighten up Jaskier’s face once more. But Jaskier doesn’t say a word, only watching Geralt silently, and all words die on Geralt’s tongue as he forces himself to turn away and urge Roach into a gallop.</p><p><em>Soon</em>, he tells himself as he gets further and further away from Jaskier, his heart getting heavier the more distance he puts between them. He’ll deal with whatever Vesemir is distressed about as quickly as possible, then he’ll find Jaskier on the Path once more and make it up to him - <em>soon</em>. </p><p>Jaskier will be fine. They spend their winters apart, after all, and they don’t always travel together - though Geralt has never told Jaskier quite so bluntly that he’s leaving, not since they’ve grown closer - so Jaskier is bound to have something to do. </p><p>Geralt doesn’t know what Jaskier usually does when they’re apart, assuming that he either travels alone or spends time in a noble household or something, but he tells himself that Jaskier will be just fine without him - in fact, he might have even more fun at the festival without Geralt’s brooding presence dragging his mood down, and he’ll get to spend time in towns and villages without worrying about Geralt getting hurt on a contract, falling into whatever beds he pleases.</p><p>It’s better this way, and everything will be fine in the end - Geralt will handle whatever trouble is happening in his realm, Jaskier will get some quality time to himself, and Geralt will return to him once everything is done.</p><p>Once he’s far away enough from Jaskier that he won’t be able to catch up, Geralt pulls on his power and thinks of <em>home</em>. When he opens his eyes, he’s back in his room at the palace, the voices of his brothers echoing down the hallway, and Geralt heads towards the door with a sigh as he sheds his glamour, already missing Jaskier like an ache.</p><p>Time to see what Vesemir wants.</p>
<hr/><p>Vesemir tells them that there’s a mysterious creature terrorising their realm - a creature that lurks in the depths of the forest at the edge of the realm, one that has killed anyone who dares venture into the forest alone, one that has somehow caused the life to drain from the farmland near the forest.</p><p>“Do we know how to stop it?” Lambert asks, frowning in worry. With a pang of guilt, Geralt thinks about how long Vesemir must have been trying to deal with this on his own, how he mustn’t have wanted to bother them on the Path. He should’ve known - he should’ve paid attention, and now his people are paying the price for his neglect.</p><p>“I have no idea,” Vesemir grunts out, raking one hand through his hair as he paces the room. “We’ve sent out groups to go after this - this creature, but it evades us every time. When we send out individual scouts, the creature kills them and leaves their corpses for us to find. We have no records of what it looks like or how it acts, because it only shows itself to small numbers of people, and no one ever lives to tell the tale.”</p><p>“What do the corpses look like?” Eskel questions, eyes sharp and focused. </p><p>Vesemir shakes his head, mouth a thin line. “Completely mauled beyond recognition. By claws of some sort, it seems, or teeth. They’re always half-decomposed when we find them, which may suggest that the creature is able to use some sort of toxin or poison, or it could be another of the creature’s powers. We’ve tried to investigate what it might be, but our efforts are coming up with nothing. It truly is nothing like anything I have ever seen before. I had our best scholars scour our libraries, but we have found nothing that matches what we know of this creature.”</p><p>“It might not be a creature from our realm,” Eskel says slowly, deep in thought. “Maybe we don’t have anything in our records because it could be from another realm - I have encountered beasts and monsters whose existence I didn’t know of before I entered the human world. This creature may somehow have come from the human world into our realm.”</p><p>“We can go investigate,” Geralt suggests, and Eskel and Lambert nod. “It might show up for the three of us, and if not, one of us can try to go after it.”</p><p>“It’s dangerous,” Vesemir warns, brows pinched in worry. “I’ve sent some of our best soldiers, and they didn’t come back.”</p><p>Lambert grins, quick and sharp. “Well, they haven’t been to the human world, have they?”</p><p>Vesemir sighs. “Very well. But - be careful.”</p>
<hr/><p>The creature doesn’t show up. Geralt and his brothers scour every inch of the forest, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary, only the usual animals that scurry through the trees and the mystical plants that grow from the ground. There’s nothing to indicate that a ferocious creature dwells here, and after hours of searching, they give up, tired and frustrated. </p><p>“I don’t think it will show up if more than one person enters the forest,” Eskel says, rubbing a hand over his eyes in exhaustion as he drops onto a chair. Those last few hours had been draining - the forest stretches far and wide, and all of them had exerted their abilities in trying to find the creature. “One of us needs to go.”</p><p>“I’ll -”</p><p>“I’ll go,” Geralt interrupts, cutting Lambert off, and Lambert twists to give him a glare, opening his mouth in protest, but Geralt ignores him, continuing, “You both know that I’m stronger and that I heal faster. I stand the best chance against it.”</p><p>“You can’t just -”</p><p>“We need to get rid of this creature,” Geralt says firmly, thinking about the sombre atmosphere that has settled over their realm as more and more of their kind are lost to this mysterious creature. He will not allow there to be any more death, not if he can do anything about it. “It’s the only way it will show up - you heard Vesemir, it won’t appear if more than one person tries to approach it. I’m our best chance at defeating it, and even if I don’t kill it, I might be able to get enough information about it that we can try and come up with more ways to take it down.”</p><p>“I don’t like this.” Eskel’s mouth is flattened into a tight line, worry apparent in his eyes as he looks at Geralt, fists clenched. “You shouldn’t have to -”</p><p>“I’m our best chance,” Geralt repeats, and Eskel drops his gaze. “And you know it. I’ll regain my strength today, stock up on what I need. Tomorrow, I’ll head into the forest. Alone.”</p><p>Lambert growls, but Geralt is already turning away, walking back to his room. His brothers hate it when he gets like this, he knows - Geralt knows full well that he would feel the exact same way if either Eskel or Lambert were to volunteer for what could very well be a deadly mission. But he refuses to allow this creature to keep terrorising his people, and he’s the best chance they have - he’s enhanced by what he’d inherited from his unknown parents, he’s skilled, and he has experience from his time as a witcher.</p><p>This creature is dangerous and unknown. But Geralt has faced off against many deadly monsters in the human world, monsters that he’s never faced before, and surely this creature will be no different. It will just be another monster for him to handle, he’s certain, as difficult as it might be.</p><p>So he heads into the forest the next day. He heads there alone, his strength replenished, armed to the teeth with potions and bombs and weapons. His magic hums around him, his swords a reassuring weight on his back, and Geralt slowly prowls through the forest, keeping his senses open for anything out of the ordinary. </p><p>He’s far into the depths of the forest when the light is snatched from the sky, shadows creeping around him as everything goes silent and still, and Geralt swiftly unsheathes his sword, his magic swirling around his free hand as he readies himself to face the threat. </p><p>A growl rips through the air, and Geralt ducks to the side just in time to avoid a whirling mass of shadows and teeth. He blasts the mass of shadows with a wave of deadly cold, but it retreats into the darkness of the forest, out of his reach, and before Geralt can react, something sharp rakes viciously over his back and he growls in pain, slashing his sword blindly at whatever had just attacked him. </p><p>His opponent appears to be a shadowy mass of everything and nothing, vicious flashes of teeth and claws emerging from the darkness, and it’s all Geralt can do to avoid these sudden strikes. This creature is unlike anything he’s faced before, nothing like the monsters he’d fought as a witcher or the beasts that roam his realm - this creature is something else, something different and deadly, and it’s with sinking dread that Geralt realises he has no idea what to do.</p><p>He’s bleeding from multiple cuts over his body, wounded from the sharp strikes that seem to manifest out of the formless shadows, and he’s barely landed a blow on this shadowy monster that seems to evade his sword and his magic. Something about the shadows must be draining him, because his wounds aren’t healing the way they should be, and he’s far too exhausted for how short this fight has been. He’s slowing down, his reflexes turning sluggish, his magic draining, and Geralt knows that he can’t defeat this creature.</p><p>He has to escape.</p><p>He can’t simply run away from this creature - it’s engulfed the forest in darkness, and it will likely follow Geralt wherever he goes - so Geralt summons the last of his strength, pulling at the remaining dregs of his magic, and pictures the lavish walls of his home, the soft sheets of his bed -</p><p>He <em>tugs</em> with his magic, and suddenly, the world is bright once again. He glimpses the familiar walls of his home before he falls to his knees, the distant voices of his brother ringing in his ears as they run towards him. </p><p>“Geralt, what <em>happened?</em>” Eskel breathes out once he reaches Geralt, hands fluttering around the various wounds on Geralt’s body. </p><p>“The creature,” Geralt grits out, head spinning and vision blurry, letting Eskel help him to his feet and move him onto the nearest chair, where he collapses, body going lax. “It’s - it’s nothing like anything I’ve encountered before.”</p><p>With exhaustion colouring every word, he tells his brothers about the creature, about the shadows and teeth and claws, watching their faces grow sombre as he describes the futility of the fight. Vesemir hurries in halfway through Geralt’s recount of the fight, face pinched in worry, and once Geralt finishes, Lambert lets out a long, exhausted exhale.</p><p>“Well, what the fuck do we do now?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Geralt returns wearily. He’s too tired for this - all he wants to do is heal and rest with how much the creature has drained him. “It’s not something that I’ve encountered in the human world, nor is it something that exists in our realm. I don’t know if we have enough knowledge of it to be able to defeat it.”</p><p>“Maybe if I try -” Eskel starts, but Vesemir cuts him off. </p><p>“<em>You</em> three might not have encountered it,” he says thoughtfully. “But I daresay that you have a rather limited experience of the human world. It’s not a creature that exists in our realm, but perhaps - perhaps it <em>does</em> exist in the human world, and the three of you simply haven’t encountered it yet.”</p><p>“That doesn’t help us -” Lambert snaps, but Vesemir brings a hand up, silencing him.</p><p>“Perhaps,” Vesemir murmurs. “We could find someone who <em>has </em>encountered it. A witcher.”</p><p>“A… witcher,” Geralt echoes flatly. </p><p>“The three of you are not proper witchers - don’t give me that look, Lambert, you know full well that you don’t have the training and experience of a true witcher - and it is perhaps worth seeking out an <em>actual </em>witcher, considering none of us know what this creature is and how to defeat it. If it is from the human realm and the three of you haven’t encountered it, a true witcher might know of it.”</p><p>“We’ve spent centuries ensuring that our realm won’t be found by outsiders,” Geralt points out, still wary about what Vesemir is trying to say. “Are we just going to simply give that up now?”</p><p>Vesemir drags a tired hand over his face. “I don’t see any other option. This creature is killing our people and draining our lands, and we don’t have the information required to be able to defeat it. Finding a witcher is our best option right now. We just have to hope that the witcher will not betray any information about our realm that could be exploited.”</p><p>“I could try again -” Geralt pipes up, and Vesemir cuts him off with a pointed look to the still-healing injuries on his body.</p><p>“I don’t want to risk it,” he says sharply, authority seeping into his tone. “I know you see the reason behind my words. It will be risky, but I want to put an end to this as soon as possible, and I’m confident that we can find a witcher with enough integrity to not betray information about our realm.”</p><p>Vesemir is right, Geralt knows. This creature has terrorised their lands for far too long, and they know far too little about it to be able to successfully take it down, especially when the creature only shows itself with one person present. Out of his brothers, Geralt is the one most likely to be able to take down a monster alone, but that creature would have killed him had he not used the last of his magic to transport himself back home - and as much as Geralt hates to admit it, Vesemir has a point. Finding a witcher, a true witcher, will be risky, but it appears to be the only option left. </p><p>Looking at his brothers, it’s clear that they’ve come to the same conclusion, and Geralt sighs.</p><p>“Are you sure?” he questions Vesemir one last time, and Vesemir gives him a sharp nod.</p><p>“It is for our people. We will deal with the consequences when they come.”</p><p>“Alright,” Geralt says, knowing that once Vesemir’s mind is made up, there’s no swaying him - and Geralt knows better than to try and sway him. After all, he has no desire for his people to continue dying at the hands of this mysterious creature, and as risky as this plan is, Geralt doesn’t see any other option. “We’ll find a contract and wait for a witcher to show up, and when they do, we’ll bring them here.”</p><p>“You need to regain your strength,” Eskel counters, ignoring Geralt’s scowl. “I’ll do it. I can go and scout for contracts now.”</p><p>Geralt grumbles a little, but doesn’t protest, fully aware that he’s in no state to go and find a witcher right now. “Fine. Just - I’ve heard enough about the School of the Cat and the Viper to know that they might not be the best option, so make sure to avoid seeking out a witcher from these two schools. Just to be safe.”</p><p>“Got it.” Eskel gets to his feet, heading towards the door with determination in his eyes. “The sooner I go, the better - it may take me some time to find a witcher, since their numbers are so small now. I’ll go now; there’s no reason to wait.”</p><p>“Be careful,” Geralt grits out, and Eskel gives one last nod before disappearing out of the door. </p><p>“This better work,” Lambert mutters, wringing his hands as he paces the room, worry evident in the pinched lines of his face. “Fuck, if that creature isn’t stopped -”</p><p>“I know,” Vesemir murmurs, mouth downturned. Geralt can’t imagine the stress Vesemir must be feeling right now - the pressure that lies on him as a king, the pressure of caring for his people, for his kingdom, ensuring that they’re happy and safe and <em>alive</em>, the pressure of trying to defeat this mysterious, unknown monster that none of them know how to face. </p><p>For Vesemir’s sake, for the sake of their people, Geralt prays to all the gods out there that this works, that they will find a witcher who knows about the creature, that they will be able to stop this creature from taking more lives. </p><p>It <em>needs</em> to work. They’re out of options, and if this doesn’t work - well, Geralt isn’t sure what they’ll do next.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eskel doesn’t return for over a week. During that time, Geralt heals and regains his strength, Lambert gets more snappish, and the lines on Vesemir’s face grow deeper as more and more reports come in of more people dying when they go near the forest. </p><p>Geralt volunteers to try and take down the creature again, but Vesemir shuts him down, refusing to allow him to risk his life without gathering more information on the creature. They mobilise dozens of people to scour the libraries, looking for any information on this mysterious creature, and Vesemir stops sending scouts, unwilling to get more of their people killed. </p><p>Bleakness hangs heavier over them with every passing day, and Geralt itches with the urge to go after Eskel, to find him and help him, but he knows that his presence will only slow Eskel down. So he waits, spending hours in his own head, replaying that fight over and over and trying to think of any weaknesses of the creature he can exploit, but coming up with nothing - despite facing it, he still knows far too little about the creature, about how its shadows work, how he can wound it. </p><p>And through it all, he misses Jaskier. He doesn’t part from Jaskier often during the year, usually for a day or two at most, and his absence is a persistent ache in Geralt’s heart. He’s here with Lambert and Vesemir, but he feels so <em>lonely</em> with every passing day without the brightness of Jaskier’s smile or the sweetness of his singing, and it makes the bleakness so much worse.</p><p>Back in the human world, even when they were separated, Geralt would take comfort in the memory of Jaskier whispering, <em>we’re under the same sky even when we’re apart, Geralt, don’t miss me too much</em>. He can’t even do that, now - he’s in a whole other realm, under a whole different sky, and Geralt feels too acutely how far they are from each other right now. </p><p>What is Jaskier doing now, Geralt wonders. Having fun at the festival, maybe, or playing in a tavern, soaking up the adoration of his audience. In some pretty man or woman’s bed - something sour churns in his gut at the thought - or sitting at a noble feast, clad in finery befitting of nobility. </p><p>He’ll return to Jaskier soon. Soon, this bleak loneliness will be chased away - soon, once this creature is taken care of. </p><p>Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Geralt feels a shift in the threads of the realm, a shift that indicates Eskel has returned - with an unknown guest. He places down the heavy tome about various beasts and creatures that he’d been reading and pushes himself to his feet, making his way towards the door. </p><p>It seems that Eskel has found a witcher at last, and Geralt feels relief lighten the dread in his gut. Perhaps this witcher will be able to take down this creature, returning their realm to safety, and Geralt will be able to return to the Path. To Jaskier.</p><p>He senses Eskel leaving the unknown guest - the witcher - in the main hall, heading towards Vesemir’s study, and Geralt hurries through the hallways to the same destination, eager to get this over with. </p><p>Eskel is already waiting with Vesemir when Geralt arrives, and Lambert barges in a few moments later, eyes alert and focused.</p><p>“You found one?”</p><p>Eskel nods, a tired smile playing on his lips. “I did. Took some time, since there are so few witchers roaming the Continent, but I managed to find one who was about to take a contract. His name is Julian, and he’s from the School of the Bear. I think we can trust him - he seems nice and honest enough, and I don’t think he will betray our secrets.”</p><p>“I will take your word for it,” Vesemir says briskly, standing from his desk. “How much have you told him?”</p><p>“That we exist, and that our realm needs his help. I’ve told him what we know about the creature, and he claims to recognise it.”</p><p>“Thank the gods. We’ve made the right choice then.” Vesemir lets out a long sigh, shoulders slumping in relief. “I truly hope that he knows what he’s doing.”</p><p>“It’s more than what we had,” Geralt points out, and the others murmur in agreement. “Shall we…”</p><p>Vesemir jerks his head towards the door. “Let’s go,” he says, and Geralt follows behind him as they make their way through the winding hallways towards the main hall.</p><p>An actual witcher. Surprisingly, Geralt hasn’t run into any other witchers during his time on the Path - now he finally has the chance to meet an actual witcher, and he’s curious about what they’re actually like. Everything that he knows about witchers comes from books and texts, and he wonders what they’re like in reality. Are the rumours about witchers true? Do they have emotions? How enhanced are they? </p><p> Vesemir pushes open the door to the main hall and strides in, and Geralt catches sight of the witcher leaning casually against a pillar, inspecting his sword as dark hair obscures his face. </p><p>“Julian, yes?” Vesemir asks, and the witcher lifts his head with a lazy grin. Geralt freezes, staring at that <em>face</em> -</p><p>“That’s me.”</p><p>Geralt knows that voice. It’s a voice that has been gracing his ears for the past two decades, a voice that he’s heard singing and talking and laughing, a voice that has made a space for itself in Geralt’s heart, but there’s no <em>way </em>-</p><p>The too-familiar witcher’s eyes are fixed on Vesemir - blue eyes that are too vibrant to be human, eyes that are slit-pupiled, and those can’t be <em>his</em> eyes, but Geralt recognises the way they crinkle at the corners - and he’s not looking at Geralt, but Geralt can’t tear his eyes off him, drinking in those features. </p><p>He knows the line of that jaw, the curve of that mouth. He knows the proud arch of those brows and the jut of those cheekbones. The scar that runs down one side of his face is unfamiliar and so is the broadness of those shoulders, but Geralt knows the shape of those eyes and the curl of that dark hair, and surely it can’t be Jaskier, because Jaskier is <em>human</em>. But aside from those unfamiliar eyes and that scar, this man - this witcher is undeniably Jaskier. </p><p> </p><p>Geralt thinks about the time Jaskier spends away from him, the way he always gives a vague explanation of Oxenfurt or a court performance but never gives Geralt details. He remembers the sceptical look in Jaskier’s eyes when Geralt fumbled to explain the School of the Wolf and his strange potions, remembers the way Jaskier seemed to know far more about witchers than a human should. </p><p>He thinks about how fearless Jaskier has always been around him, the way he’s insistent that witchers aren’t emotionless, that witchers are <em>good</em>. He remembers how inexplicably skilled Jaskier is at patching up Geralt’s wounds, and how there’s always a hidden dagger somewhere in his doublet. He recalls the tingle of magic he sometimes senses on Jaskier, something that he’s always dismissed as a trick of his senses - but it makes sense now.</p><p>Seems like Geralt hasn’t been the only one keeping secrets. </p><p>“Thank you for helping us,” Vesemir is saying, and Geralt shakes himself back into reality, trying not to stare too hard at Jaskier. It’s <em>jarring</em> - this witcher is so clearly Jaskier, and yet so different from the bard he remembers. “I believe Eskel has filled you in.”</p><p>“He has,” Jaskier responds, his gaze moving towards Eskel, towards Lambert, towards - “I didn’t think that you -”</p><p>Bright blue eyes lock with Geralt’s own, and Jaskier stops mid-sentence, staring at Geralt with open-mouthed shock. </p><p>“Julian?” Vesemir prompts, frowning, but Jaskier doesn’t respond, continuing to stare incredulously at Geralt, and Geralt stares back, shifting from one foot to another. Looks like it’s time for both of them to confront the truth.</p><p>“What -” Jaskier shakes his head, blinking as if to dispel himself of any hallucinations, before glancing back at Geralt, eyes roving up and down Geralt’s body, from the black crown settled on Geralt’s head and his pointed ears to his long back robes, and he opens his mouth, closes it, still blinking rapidly. “<em>Geralt?</em>”</p><p>No one says his name quite like Jaskier does, like it’s something to be cherished, like it’s something special, and the remaining doubts in Geralt’s mind that this witcher in front of him is Jaskier are all quickly dispelled. </p><p>Well. This will be interesting.</p><p>“You two <em>know</em> each other?” Lambert mutters, but Geralt and Jaskier ignore him. </p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt returns shakily, and Jaskier gives him another once-over, jaw still slack.</p><p>“What the fuck?”</p><p>“Fuck,” Geralt agrees, having run out of words to say, aware of the way his brothers and Vesemir have fallen silent and are simply watching this unfold between him and Jaskier.</p><p>“Well,” Jaskier mutters, a wry twist to his mouth even though the disbelief doesn’t leave his eyes. “That monosyllabism and that cadence is certainly very Geralt-y.” He pauses, bright eyes searching Geralt’s face, tilting his head curiously. “This was certainly not what I expected when Eskel told me that the fae are real and that your realm needs a witcher.”</p><p>“I didn’t expect this either,” Geralt murmurs, and Jaskier huffs out a low breath. </p><p>“So much for ‘witcher business’.” There’s something bitter in Jaskier’s voice which he quickly hides, and Geralt bites his lip as guilt wells within him at the memory of his parting words to Jaskier, his flimsy excuse of ‘witcher business’. “It appears that both of us have quite a lot of explaining to do.”</p><p>“Geralt,” Vesemir cuts in, brow creased as he looks between the two of them, urgency in his voice. “The creature.”</p><p>“Ah, right,” Geralt stutters out guiltily, jolted out from the shock of seeing Jaskier as a witcher and back into the urgency of the situation they’re in. “Jaskier, I -”</p><p>“This is urgent, isn’t it?” Jaskier asks Vesemir, who nods, and his tone turns brisk and businesslike. “Geralt and I can talk later. Let me know what I have to do. So this creature - it only comes out when people are alone? And its form seems to be made out of shadows?”</p><p>“It had teeth and claws coming out of the shadows, and I could barely track its movements,” Geralt offers softly, reeling himself back to reality even though his mind is still in turmoil over Jaskier, in slight whiplash from how quickly Jaskier had snapped into the professional, serious persona of a witcher. “It was fast, made growling noises, and it came out of nowhere.”</p><p>“Did the shadows drain you?”</p><p>Geralt winces at the memory. “Yes.”</p><p>A slow nod. “I think I can work with that.”</p><p>“You know what it is?” Vesemir cuts in hopefully. </p><p>“I might,” Jaskier answers vaguely, pushing off the pillar. “It’s not something I’ve ever faced, and its existence is rare enough that it hasn’t been given a name, but I have studied it enough to have some idea how I might be able to defeat it.”</p><p>“Thank the gods,” Vesemir breathes out, relief bleeding into his features, and Geralt sees the toll that this situation has taken on Vesemir, the pressure he’s been under to protect his people and preserve his land, the sheer worry he must have felt with how little they know about the creature and how helpless they are against it. “If you need anything, we are happy to provide.”</p><p>“I think I’ll be fine, I was fully equipped for the contract anyway, before Eskel brought me here. I assume you want it defeated as soon as possible?”</p><p>“If you can.” The tense lines of Vesemir’s shoulders have loosened, and Geralt is so, so grateful that Jaskier is here, that they may finally be able to take this burden off Vesemir’s shoulders. “If you need rest - if you need <em>anything</em> -”</p><p>“I can go now if you need me to,” Jaskier says, and Vesemir nods at him with a tight-lipped smile. “I have everything I need, and anything more would be too much.”</p><p>“One of us will take you to it,” Vesemir says briskly, turning towards Geralt and his brothers. “Will you -”</p><p>“I fought it last time, I’ll do it,” Geralt offers before his brothers can, uncaring of how poorly he’s hiding his desire to actually <em>talk</em> to Jaskier. </p><p>Vesemir dips his head towards Jaskier, smile tense but grateful. “Alright. Geralt will take you to where he last saw the creature, and - good luck. And thank you.”</p><p>“It’s my job,” Jaskier answers with a shrug before glancing towards Geralt with unreadable eyes. “Well, take me there, Geralt.”</p><p>Hesitantly, Geralt holds out his hand, and after a brief pause, Jaskier takes it, his hand warm and rough with unfamiliar callouses, looking at Geralt with eyes that are still trusting despite the most recent revelation. Geralt gives him a tremulous smile before shutting his eyes, picturing the forest where he’d fought the creature and transporting both of them there. </p><p>“What the <em>fuck</em>,” Jaskier gasps out, stumbling slightly as he takes in their new location. “What was that?”</p><p>“Uh,” Geralt fumbles, distracted by the way Jaskier’s hand is still in his, sending tingles up his arm. He’s missed Jaskier’s touch so much, missed the way Jaskier touches him so easily and without reserve. “Magic?”</p><p>“You mean we could have been travelling like this all the time instead of trudging through the Path?” Jaskier mutters, pulling his hand from Geralt’s to brush himself down, and Geralt clenches his hand into a fist, mourning the loss of Jaskier’s warmth. </p><p>“I - uh -”</p><p>“You had a secret to keep, I know,” Jaskier sighs, straightening. “I’m not going to judge you. I kept secrets from you too.”</p><p>“What a pair we make,” Geralt murmurs, and Jaskier makes a sound that could almost be a laugh. </p><p>“Well, I would love to have this conversation now, but it seems that there’s a creature to be taken care of.”</p><p>“Ah, yes.” This is so stilted, awkward, so unlike what Geralt is used to, and he hates it. “I’ll take you to where it found me last time, but it seems to only show up for one person, so -”</p><p>“You can lead me there, and do your little transportation thing to get out while I search that area,” Jaskier suggests, jerking his chin at Geralt in a clear sign for him to start leading the way into the forest, so Geralt starts making his way into the line of the trees, Jaskier following behind him, stealthy and silent in a way that contradicts everything Geralt remembers about him. “I’ll handle it.”</p><p>A familiar protective instinct rises in Geralt, an instinct honed over two decades of friendship, of Jaskier following him on hunts and almost getting hurt, an instinct that screams at him to never let Jaskier get hurt, and before he knows it, he’s blurting out, “But you can’t - you shouldn’t -”</p><p>“I’m no fragile human, Geralt,” Jaskier reminds him softly, and Geralt’s jaw tightens. Right. “This is <em>my</em> fight.”</p><p>“You mean you could’ve protected yourself all this time?” Geralt tries for a playful tone, an echo of Jaskier’s earlier words, but it falls slightly too flat, slightly too accusative, and Jaskier’s near-silent footsteps stutter slightly. </p><p>Jaskier doesn’t answer, and Geralt leads them deeper into the forest, navigating through the trees and bushes, keeping his senses open and alert. But Jaskier’s presence - it’s distracting, tugging at the turbulent swirl of emotions whirling in Geralt’s heart, a mix of longing and confusion and doubt, and Jaskier’s presence is different enough to throw Geralt off slightly, his mind not quite able to comprehend the lethal grace with which Jaskier weaves through the trees, one hand on his sword and his eyes darting across the trees. </p><p>It’s some time later before Jaskier remarks softly, “You’re not dressed for battle.”</p><p>“No, I… I didn’t expect this,” Geralt whispers, careful to keep his voice down. They’re still close enough to the edge of the forest that Geralt doubts the creature will show up, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. </p><p>“I can see that,” Jaskier mutters. “It’s strange. I’ve never seen you in clothes like this.”</p><p>Geralt glances self-consciously down at his robes, black and gilded with gold. “Oh, uh - these are just what we wear here.”</p><p>Jaskier hums softly. “Well, you look good.” Before Geralt’s frazzled brain can fully process Jaskier’s words - Jaskier has complimented him many times, enough that Geralt has gotten used to it, but it’s something else entirely to have Jaskier compliment his true form rather than what he’d glamoured himself to look like, and Geralt doesn’t know what to do with the information - Jaskier forges on, “You should have a weapon on you, at least. Just in case.”</p><p>“I have my magic,” Geralt tries to protest, but Jaskier settles a hand on his shoulder, forcing Geralt to a stop as he pulls a dagger from his hip and presses it into Geralt’s hand.</p><p>“Take that,” Jaskier says firmly, voice brooking no room for argument before he steps away, waving a hand for Geralt to continue walking, and Geralt does so, wrapping his fingers tightly around the dagger - around <em>Jaskier’s </em>dagger, something warm blooming in his heart at this display of protectiveness from Jaskier.</p><p>“Thank you,” Geralt murmurs, twisting back to meet Jaskier’s eyes briefly, bright blue in the dimness of the forest. </p><p>“Anytime,” Jaskier returns softly, and Geralt’s heart squeezes, yearning to reach out to him, to revel in the warmth of his touch, but he crushes that yearning, reminding himself that they have a job to do, a creature to defeat.</p><p>This can all come later. </p><p>The deeper they wander into the forest, more and more dread drips into the depths of Geralt’s gut. This creature is dangerous - it’s killed far too many of his people and it had almost killed him, and now, Jaskier is the one who will be facing it, who’s risking his life, who might not come back alive. </p><p>It brings back all of Geralt’s fears of Jaskier’s vulnerability, his human frailty, and all he wants is to transport Jaskier back to the palace, bring him to safety and ensure that he won’t have to walk headfirst into danger - he can’t bear the thought of Jaskier facing that shadowy creature, surrounded by formless shadows and teeth and claws, <em>alone</em>. </p><p>In his mind, Jaskier is a human bard who Geralt should protect, who’s vulnerable to the dangers of the world. But it only takes one look at Jaskier to jolt Geralt back into the reality of their situation, the reality that Jaskier is a witcher, able to take care of himself, capable of fighting and taking down monsters and beasts, trained to face the dangers of the Path. </p><p>Apart from the familiar features of his face, Jaskier barely resembles the bard that Geralt remembers - his body is broad and strong, covered in sturdy armour, with various knives and daggers across his body, and twin swords are strapped to his back, giving him a lethal, threatening air. The scar running down his face looks almost sinister in the dim light filtering through the canopy, and his face is dangerously focused as he follows Geralt, blue eyes giving a glow that almost seems eerie. </p><p>It’s all Geralt wants to do to protect Jaskier the way he’s done for the past two decades, to shield him from imminent danger, to spirit him far away from the creatures terrorising Geralt’s realm. But <em>Jaskier</em> is the dangerous one here - he’s the one who actually has a chance of defeating the creature, who has the skill and knowledge needed to take it down - and Geralt is the one who’s vulnerable, at the mysterious creature’s mercy.</p><p>The trees start looking familiar, gouges in the trunks which must come from the creature’s claws, and Geralt halts, glancing around the area where he’d fought the creature. </p><p>“Here. I fought it here,” Geralt says softly, and Jaskier nods, mouth set in a grim line. </p><p>“Alright,” he mutters, scanning the area, taking in the gouges in the tree trunks, the bushes which had been ripped apart. “I can take it from here.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll -” Geralt knows that he should go, leave Jaskier so that he can seek out the creature, but the thought of leaving Jaskier alone, leaving him to the mercy of that shadowy creature, leaves a sick feeling in his stomach. “Jaskier…”</p><p>Jaskier glances back towards him, and his face softens. “I can handle myself, Geralt,” he murmurs, taking a step towards Geralt, reaching out a hand to rest on Geralt’s arm. “Don’t worry about me.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t - I can’t -” Geralt swallows, his stomach twisting and churning. “I want to help.”</p><p>“It won’t show up with you here,” Jaskier points out gently, and Geralt knows this, he <em>knows this</em>, but gods, he doesn’t like it at all. He wants to take Jaskier far, far away, or at least stay by Jaskier’s side so he can protect, but he can’t, and he <em>hates</em> it. </p><p>“I know, but…” Geralt reaches up to grasp desperately at Jaskier’s hand, using Jaskier’s touch to ground himself, to slow the racing beat of his heart. “I -”</p><p>“We still have to talk, remember? We both owe each other an explanation.” Jaskier’s voice is low, gentle in a way that’s at odds with the danger radiating from his armour and weapons, soft in a way that Geralt has heard when Jaskier tends to his wounds, when Jaskier talks him through the aftermath of his nightmares. “I’ll come back. Don’t worry.”</p><p>“Be careful,” Geralt chokes out, voice shaky, vulnerable in a way he rarely is, vulnerable in a way he only lets himself be in front of Jsakier. “Please don’t - don’t die.”</p><p>“I know you’ve only recently uncovered this fact, but I’ve spent decades fighting monsters like these,” Jaskier tells him, and Geralt listens to the soft murmur of his voice, grounding himself. “This isn’t the first time I’ve fought a creature I’ve never encountered before. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>In a swift movement that surprises even Geralt, Jaskier pulls Geralt in, resting their foreheads together, Geralt’s crown bumping against the top of Jaskier’s head, and Geralt grips desperately at him, trying to regulate his breathing, to push down the sick feeling of dread churning in his gut. </p><p>“Be <em>careful</em>,” he repeats, and Jaskier pulls away, stroking a calloused hand over Geralt’s face before stepping back. </p><p>“I will,” Jaskier promises, low and sincere. “Now go. I’ll come back.”</p><p>With that, he draws his sword in one graceful movement and turns away from Geralt, his steps silent as he heads deeper into the forest, blending seamlessly in the shadows, and Geralt stares after him, heart aching, stomach churning, face tingling with the lingering warmth of Jaskier’s touch. </p><p>Jaskier has to come back. He <em>has</em> to. Geralt has to believe - Jaskier has placed his faith in Geralt so, so many times over the decades, and now, it’s Geralt’s turn to have faith in Jaskier, to trust that he’s strong and skilled and capable, to trust that he will return. </p><p>But he can’t bring himself to leave. He should transport himself back to the palace and wait for Jaskier to return, but fuck, he can’t risk losing Jaskier, rebelling against the thought of leaving Jaskier alone in the darkness of the forest. So he stays rooted in place, feeling Jaskier’s presence move further and further away, before he finally forces himself to move. </p><p>He won’t get too close to Jaskier, since the creature won’t show up if it doesn’t think Jaskier is alone, so he stays a good distance away, reaching out with the threads of his magic to track where Jaskier is. If Jaskier is in danger, Geralt can jump in and help him - Geralt refuses the possibility of losing Jaskier, not if he can try and prevent it. </p><p>He slinks slowly through the trees, and he’s so focused on tracking Jaskier’s presence that he doesn’t notice when the forest slowly grows darker, the trill of birds falling silent as the wind dies down.</p><p>And then -</p><p>A too-familiar growl resonates in his ears as molten pain rips across his back, and Geralt screams. </p><p>Fuck, he’d gotten careless, and now -</p><p>It’s only due to decades of training that he manages to push past the burning pain on his back, blindly slashing Jaskier’s dagger towards the ripple in the air that indicates movement and almost sobbing in relief when his dagger sinks into something. </p><p>The creature must have recognised him somehow, Geralt realises as he rolls to avoid a swipe from shining talons, and it must have come after him again for that very reason, wanting to finish off its prey rather than pursuing a new one. As Geralt fights, sending deadly sharp shards of ice through the air and slashing at anything solid emerging from the shadows, he can’t help but be relieved that Jaskier will be <em>safe</em>.</p><p>He’s weakening. The creature is as strong as it had been last time, and Geralt is ill-equipped to fight it, the dagger his only weapon and his robes providing no protection from those deadly claws and razor-sharp teeth, leaving him vulnerable as the creature inflicts wound after wound on his body. He can still transport himself away like he had done last time, but he can’t let himself leave Jaskier to face this creature alone, he can’t -</p><p>“Geralt!” Jaskier’s worried cry cuts through the low growls of the creature, and, on instinct, Geralt almost yells at him to stay back, to stay with Roach, out of range of the creature. But Jaskier appears through the shadowy form of the creature, just in time to pull Geralt away from a strike that would have impaled him in the chest, his other hand bringing his silver sword down on the creature’s stray limb.</p><p>“I thought you left,” Jaskier snaps out breathlessly as he drags Geralt away, deftly evading the creature’s strikes. “What the fuck, Geralt?”</p><p>“I couldn’t let you -” He’s cut off when multiple shadows lunge at them, and Jaskier shoves him away, raising his free hand and crooking his fingers - Geralt recognises it as the witcher sign of Igni. Bright flame bursts from his hand and roars towards the shadows, and the creature lets out a piercing shriek as it retreats, its shadows seeming to weaken and a small sliver of light returning to the forest. </p><p>“Stay back,” Jaskier commands, not taking his eyes off the shadows as he swiftly downs a potion while ducking under a shadowy limb. Geralt wants to protest, wants to jump in and aid Jaskier in the fight, but Jaskier is a blur of movement whirling through the shadows, and Geralt can do nothing but stay back in fear of accidentally getting in Jaskier’s way with how fast he’s moving. </p><p>Watching Jaskier fight is…</p><p>Geralt doesn’t know what he had expected. Prior to the revelation of Jaskier being a witcher, he would’ve expected Jaskier to fumble in a fight, limbs uncoordinated and awkward; even after finding out Jaskier was a witcher, that image hasn’t completely been banished from Geralt’s mind. </p><p>But now, watching Jaskier in action, watching the easy way he spins away from the creature’s claws, the graceful arc of his sword through the air, slicing through the shadows, the shudder of chaos through the air as Jaskier casts a powerful Igni, the intense focus and promise of death in his potion-black eyes - it’s nothing like what Geralt had expected, and it’s almost mesmerising, breathtaking in a way that takes Geralt’s mind off the pain of his own injuries. </p><p>So this is what a witcher in action looks like. </p><p>With each blast of Igni, the writhing shadows grow weaker, more sunlight peeking through, the claws and teeth diminishing - with the way it cowers from the sun and weakens from Jaskier’s Igni, the creature must be weak to fire and light. This must have been why Geralt hadn’t been able to defeat it - his own magic is aligned with the Winter Court, the realm of ice and snow, frigid and cold and so unlike the fiery bursts of Igni searing from Jaskier’s hands.</p><p>There’s something different about the way Jaskier fights compared to the way Geralt fights, something that must have been ingrained into witchers from a young age, something that enables them to get rid of monsters in the most efficient manner - the swing of Jaskier’s sword is clean and efficient, his movements swift and graceful, not a single second wasted as he dances around the creature’s shadowy strikes, every single one of his blows striking true. </p><p>It’s different from the way Geralt was taught to fight - he’s been trained to be efficient, of course, but he hasn’t been trained primarily to defeat monsters, to always know how and where to strike at their weakest spots. He’s been trained for all sorts of situations, but not specifically monster fighting, and even though he’s picked up more skills on the Path, he realises whilst watching Jaskier that his own fighting style can never compare to that of a true witcher. </p><p>If he were to face off against Jaskier in a fair fight, Geralt isn’t sure who would win. But against a monster, Jaskier is far, far more equipped to face one than he is, and it’s clear in the way Jaskier bears down on the creature with strong and sure blows from his sword, the creature clinging desperately to the last of its shadows as it shrieks and growls, looking far less intimidating now that it’s been reduced to a far smaller mass of the shadows, no longer blocking out the sunlight. </p><p>In what must be a frenzied last attempt to take Jaskier down, the creature manifests a flurry of claws and teeth out of nowhere, sending them hurtling towards Jaskier, and Geralt’s breath catches in his throat in a silent scream as he tries to push himself to his feet, ignoring the way his injuries scream as he struggles to get to Jaskier, who’s in danger, who’s about to be ripped to pieces by those claws, and Geralt <em>can’t let that happen</em>.</p><p>But Jaskier dances backwards, away from the claws, and the creature pursues him, shadowy limbs writhing as it shrieks in pain and rage. Jaskier doesn’t dart in, doesn’t slash at the claws reaching for him, but keeps retreating and evading the creature, leading it further away from Geralt, who’s too weak to keep up with them, too weak to be able to protect Jaskier from those blows. </p><p>What is Jaskier doing?</p><p>Then the creature lunges forward, swift and deadly, claws extended, and Geralt almost cries out -</p><p>All of a sudden, the creature stops in its tracks, abrupt and sudden, like it’s hit an invisible wall. It shrieks again, its limbs and claws shaking as if pushing against something, rearing back before lunging forward only to be stopped once again, unable to reach Jaskier, and one look at the satisfied tilt of Jaskier’s lips tells Geralt what he needs to know.</p><p>Yrden. Yet another witcher sign, one used to trap, to slow, and the creature is trapped in it, unable to leave the confines of the trap to go after Jaskier, unable to overpower the sign now that it’s hanging onto the last of its strength.</p><p>Jaskier must be exhausted from the sheer number of signs he’s cast over the course of the fight, but he still raises his free hand, crooking it into the sign of Igni and sending a bright stream of fire at the trapped creature, engulfing it in flames. It growls and shrieks and writhes, but it’s too weak to rid itself of the flames, unable to escape the fire with Yrden trapping it, and Geralt watches as the last of the shadows fade away, light returning to the forest like the creature had never been there. </p><p>They’ve done it. Jaskier’s done it - the creature is <em>gone</em>. </p><p>Jaskier, still breathing hard from exertion, turns pitch-black eyes on Geralt, worry filling his features when he sees Geralt barely propping himself up against a tree. </p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier breathes out, hurrying towards Geralt and scanning the wounds littering his body, and gods, it’s so <em>familiar</em>, the way Jaskier’s letting out soft, worried noises as he takes in Geralt’s already-healing wounds. “How badly hurt are you?”</p><p>“I’ll heal,” Geralt grits out, trying to take a step forward but almost falling on his face with how shaky his legs are. Jaskier catches him easily, slinging Geralt’s arm around his neck in support, keeping one gentle arm around Geralt’s waist, careful not to jostle Geralt’s injuries. </p><p>“You should have gone back,” Jaskier admonishes, but his tone is soft and worried as he fusses over Geralt’s wounds. “I would’ve handled it fine on my own.”</p><p>“Couldn’t let you face it alone,” Geralt mumbles, leaning heavily onto Jaskier. “You -”</p><p>“You’re an idiot,” Jaskier sighs, tired but unmistakably fond. “Do you have enough strength to transport us back?”</p><p>“I…” Geralt reaches into the reserves of his strength, relieved to find that, thanks to Jaskier intervening in the fight, he has enough power to bring them back. “Yes, let me -”</p><p>He tugs on his power, and from one blink to the next, they go from standing in the forest to the main hall of the palace, draining Geralt of his remaining strength. He almost collapses, and would have crumpled to the floor if not for Jaskier’s strong arms holding him up. </p><p>“Geralt - hey, hey,” Jaskier murmurs concernedly, and Geralt has to force his eyes open to meet Jaskier’s eyes, sucking in a breath when he finds that they’re still black, filled with worry and concern. “Can you walk? Who am I kidding, you look like you’re on the verge of collapse, let me -”</p><p>In a sudden movement, Jaskier picks Geralt up easily in his arms, cradling him in such a way that Geralt’s wounds aren’t irritated, and Geralt is too exhausted to be shocked, his head lolling against Jaskier’s shoulder. </p><p>“Tell me where to go,” Jaskier says softly, heading towards the doors, and Geralt tiredly points in the direction of his room as Jaskier carries him through the hallways. It’s nice, being in Jaskier’s arms - Geralt feels like he could stay there forever, warmth blooming in his heart at the protective way Jaskier’s arms curl around him, at how close he’s pressed to Jaskier’s chest.</p><p>“Here?” Jaskier asks, and at Geralt’s tired nod, he nudges the door open, heading inside and setting Geralt on his bed, gentle as ever. “How are you feeling? Do you…”</p><p>“I’m healing,” Geralt breathes out tiredly, missing the warmth of Jaskier’s arms. Jaskier is still lingering by Geralt’s bedside, but he seems too far away, and Geralt hates it. “Might be slow because I used the last of my magic, but I just need a little time to recover.”</p><p>“Anything I can do to help?” Jaskier’s hands are twitching by his side as he watches Geralt anxiously. “I can - would cleaning your wounds help? Or a - a bath? Should I...”</p><p>“Yes,” Geralt rasps, the selfish corner of his mind whispering about how he’ll get to have Jaskier’s gentle hands on him once again, the way it’s been for so many years, tending to his wounds with tender care. “My bathroom -” he lifts a weak hand to point in the direction of his bathroom, “The water refills magically.”</p><p>With a nod, Jaskier disappears into the bathroom, and Geralt lets his eyes fall shut, drifting a little, his mind hazy as he tries to shut out the pain. The soft sound of footsteps approach him, and Geralt keeps his eyes shut as Jaskier settles next to him.</p><p>“You don’t mind if I just cut these off you, right?” Jaskier murmurs, hand ghosting over the tattered remains of Geralt’s robes, torn by the creature’s claws. “They’re basically ruined anyway.”</p><p>At Geralt’s nod, Geralt feels Jaskier slowly pulling his robes off him, slow and cautious as he avoids touching Geralt’s wounds. Once his robes are off, he feels the gentle swipe of wet cloth across his injuries as Jaskier starts cleaning them, movements methodical and gentle, and it’s intimate and familiar, so familiar that Geralt feels his body relax despite the pain, Jaskier’s touch soothing him, grounding him. </p><p>“Tell me if it hurts,” Jaskier whispers as he dabs the wet cloth over the healing wound on Geralt’s abdomen, and Geralt hums in affirmation, trusting Jaskier to always be gentle with him - he’s been doing this for decades, after all.</p><p>When he’s done, Jaskier slides an arm under Geralt’s back, his other arm hooking under Geralt’s legs, and lifts him up, carefully carrying him to the bathroom, where a warm bath is waiting. It’s the second time Jaskier has carried him today, and Geralt has no objections to that, enjoying the feeling of Jaskier’s arms around him a little too much, offering no resistance as Jaskier places him in the bath, simultaneously too tired to move and not wanting to move under Jaskier’s attentive care. </p><p>This - this is familiar. Not the part where Jaskier is a witcher and Geralt is fae, but the part where Jaskier carefully washes Geralt’s hair, his fingers tangling in the long strands, tugging pleasantly at Geralt’s scalp, where Geralt sinks into Jaskier’s touch, the world blurring away and the pain fading to a background simmer as Jaskier carefully rubs soap over his bare body, where Jaskier starts humming, low and soft, a balm to Geralt’s ears and a distraction from the pain. </p><p>It’s comforting, and Geralt feels himself start to drift off under Jaskier’s ministrations, his body lax and pliant, comfort humming through him under Jaskier’s careful touch. Some part of Geralt struggles to stay awake, but his exhaustion, combined with the familiar intimacy of the situation, starts tugging his fuzzy mind into unconsciousness as Jaskier works his fingers carefully through Geralt’s hair, the low hum of song filling the bathroom.</p><p>Eventually, Geralt succumbs to unconsciousness, surrounded by the tenderness of Jaskier’s touch and the heady weight of his care, the sweet lilt of his humming and the warmth that can only come from years and years of familiarity and intimacy, and the last thing he knows is Jaskier carefully carrying him out of the bath and setting him on his bed, a ghost of calloused fingers brushing over his cheek and a soft whisper.</p><p>“Rest well, Geralt.”</p>
<hr/><p>It’s with the tingling memory of that gentle touch over his cheek that Geralt wakes up, his body sunk in the luxurious softness of his bed. Jaskier’s familiar presence is on the other side of the room as he hums a soft song, and for a moment, Geralt thinks that it’s just another day on the Path, where they’ve stayed the night at the inn and Jaskier has miraculously woken up before Geralt, going about his morning routine. </p><p>But the bed underneath him is too soft to be the creaky bed of an inn, and there’s the absence of the weight of his glamour pressing down on him, which he’d grown used to in Jaskier’s presence. He can hear the quiet scrape of metal from where Jaskier must be sharpening his weapons, the sweet, lilting tune of his familiar humming reaching Geralt’s ears.</p><p>Geralt opens his eyes, his gaze immediately going to the corner of the room where Jaskier is lounging on a chair, knives in his lap, and when he pushes himself into a sitting position, Jaskier’s eyes snap to meet his.</p><p>The humming stops. </p><p>“You’re awake,” Jaskier says awkwardly, his hands frozen over where they’d been sharpening his knives, and Geralt is reminded that they aren’t on the Path, that they aren’t camping by the road or staying the night at an inn - no, they’re in Geralt’s realm, their previously-buried secrets now laid bare before them, laid bare in the slit pupils of Jaskier’s eyes and the scar running down his face, in the pointed tips of Geralt’s ears and his black crown resting on his bedside table.</p><p>“I am,” Geralt affirms after a brief, awkward pause, and they stare at each other for a few moments, stilted and silent. Geralt’s skin hums with the memory of the last time he’d been awake, Jaskier’s phantom touch ghosting over his skin, tender and affectionate - but Jaskier is too far away right now, on the other side of the room, watching Geralt with eyes that are unreadable save for the hint of concern at the edges.</p><p>“Do you feel better?”</p><p>Geralt takes stock of his body, taking in the injuries, some healed, some only partially healed, grateful to find that he can move his limbs without pain, and most of the pain has faded to a dull ache. “I - yeah. It’s better now. Thank you.”</p><p>Jaskier hums, not quite looking at Geralt as he sets down his knives. “So.”</p><p>“So,” Geralt echoes, knowing where this is going. They hadn’t been able to talk about it last time, preoccupied by the creature threatening Geralt’s realm and then Geralt’s injuries, but now, Geralt’s alert and awake, with no one to disturb them.</p><p>It’s time to place their secrets out in the open. </p><p>“I guess we should talk,” Jaskier murmurs, lips quirking tiredly. It’s clear that he’d rather not have this discussion, and Geralt would rather not as well - but they’ve been keeping secrets from one another across the entirety of their friendship. Talking about it is inevitable if they want to return to how they were. </p><p>“Seems so.”</p><p>Another pause, pregnant with two decades of lying, of secrets, of hiding. Jaskier fiddles with his knives, absently spinning them in his hands, and Geralt is glad to see that Jaskier’s fidgety tendences haven’t changed, that he still needs to do <em>something</em> with his hands at all times, though instead of fiddling with his lute, he’s playing with his knives. </p><p>“Well, since we’ve both been lying to each other for two decades -” Straight to the point, but Geralt shouldn’t have expected anything else from Jaskier, “Do you want to explain first, or shall I?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll…” The words die in his throat, and Geralt tries to work out what to say, how to explain. How does he tell Jaskier that, for as long as they’ve been friends, his whole identity had been a lie? But the flash of too-bright blue eyes reminds him that he’s not alone in this, that Jaskier owes him an explanation as well, so he stutters out, “I’m not actually a witcher.”</p><p>Well, that was a rather stupid thing to say. It seems that whether he’s in his true form or glamoured as a witcher, his inability to string words together hasn’t changed. </p><p>“I can see that,” Jaskier remarks dryly, looking pointedly at Geralt’s ears. “So you’re fae.”</p><p>“Yes.” Geralt worries the fabric of his duvet, searching for words, for something to say. “I, uh, I’m the prince of the Winter Court. Which is - which is here. Where we are right now.”</p><p>“Well, this Winter Court thing is something that Eskel told me.” Jaskier isn’t meeting Geralt’s eyes, gaze fixed on something behind Geralt’s head. “Didn’t think you’d be a prince, though. How does a prince of a fae court end up living the gritty life of a witcher?”</p><p>Geralt coughs awkwardly. “We were - well. We were bored.”</p><p>The moment the words come out of his mouth, he wants to take them back. They sound so <em>stupid</em>, and Geralt almost flushes in embarrassment when one of Jaskier’s eyebrows climb higher in disbelief, the knives stilling in his hands. </p><p>“You,” Jaskier says slowly, and Geralt struggles not to squirm under the clear judgement of his tone. “Were bored.”</p><p>“We wanted to experience the human world,” Geralt explains, and Jaskier’s brow lowers slightly. “Eternity in a realm that never changes - it got dull, and Lambert had this crazy idea that we should go into the human world as witchers.”</p><p>“And you somehow thought that being witchers was the best way to experience the human world.” Jaskier still sounds sceptical, a bitter twist to his mouth, and Geralt is reminded that Jaskier is an actual witcher, that he’s truly lived the life of a witcher, Trials and Path and training and all, and he knows far better than Geralt what being a witcher is like. “Witchers. Who risk their lives at the hands of monsters. Who are hated by humans. Who -”</p><p>“I know,” Geralt confesses, thinking of how wearisome the Path is, how dangerous. “But I wanted to travel. I wanted to experience the human world in its entirety, and being a witcher - it gave me that.”</p><p>Jaskier’s lips are downturned, something disapproving in his expression. “The life of a witcher is not as enjoyable as you make it out to be.”</p><p>“I know that.” The life of a witcher is dark and gritty, sometimes harsh enough that Geralt has considered abandoning the Path and returning to his realm, but it’s the way witchers experience the human world, the way he gets to traverse the Continent and experience the mutability of the human world that compels him to stay. “But there’s - I don’t know how to explain it. Being a witcher - there’s the thrill of helping others, but there’s also something… different in the way I get to view the human world.”</p><p>“Funny, isn’t it,” Jaskier murmurs, shutting his eyes. “You disguised yourself as a witcher to experience the human world. I, a witcher, disguised myself as a human to experience human life without the burden of the Path.”</p><p>“I…” Gods, it’s been years and years since conversation has been this awkward between them, and Geralt hates it. He wants to return to their easy banter, to the way words flow between them, to how Jaskier is bright and open with him. “I’m sorry. I… I wanted to tell you, but we as a species have secluded ourselves from the human world for a reason, and I didn’t want to expose the secrets of our land. And I didn’t mean to - to trivialise your experience as a witcher.”</p><p>“No, you -” Jaskier sighs, running a hand through his hair before opening his eyes to gaze at Geralt. “Your lifespan, your experiences - these aren’t something I can understand. Even if I don’t see the appeal of willingly becoming a witcher, there must have been a reason you chose to do so, and it must have been a good reason considering how long you stuck around, even after Blaviken. And going straight onto the Path - it’s different from being raised a witcher and going through the Trials. I understand that your experience is different from mine, and I understand why you never told me. I never told you either.”</p><p>Geralt thinks about how much he’s learnt since entering the human world as a witcher, how much joy he’s gained, how, despite Blaviken, he’d met Jaskier and lived through some of the brightest decades of his life - a good reason to stay, indeed. </p><p>“I am grateful that I chose to come here,” Geralt confesses lowly, words spilling out of his mouth in a stream of open honesty. “I’ve experienced so much more than I ever thought I would, and - I cherish the years I’ve spent as a witcher. It was something new, something different, and I…” he swallows, looking Jaskier straight in the eyes. “I met you. I - I’m very grateful for that.”</p><p>Jaskier’s face softens, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Oh? You’re actually telling me that you’re glad we met, huh?”</p><p>“Very much so.” Jaskier had brightened the Path, bringing joy back into the human world for Geralt, and he’d been a companion, a <em>friend</em>, for two decades, a reassuring presence by Geralt’s side - Geralt is so damn grateful for him, and he tries to pour the depths of his sincerity into his gaze, willing Jaskier to see it, willing him to <em>understand</em>. </p><p>If the way Jaskier’s smile gets wider is any indication, he must see the sincerity - Jaskier has always known him well, after all, and Jaskier gets to his feet, setting his knives to the side as he pads over to Geralt’s bed, sitting himself on the edge. He’s taken off his armour, and Geralt realises abruptly that Jaskier is wearing <em>his</em> clothes, a realisation that causes a fire to burn within his heart. </p><p>Jaskier is wearing <em>his</em> clothes. It isn’t the first time - they’ve travelled together long enough for that to happen multiple times - but it’s the first time that Jaskier is wearing clothes from Geralt’s realm, the long, elegant robes of the fae that cling nicely to his broad shoulders and strong arms, and Geralt has to shake himself out of his stupor. </p><p>That shouldn’t affect him as much as it does, but all Geralt wants is to pull Jaskier in close and hold him, breathing in the scent of Jaskier in his clothes, reveling in this sign of Jaskier being <em>his</em>. He sternly shuts these thoughts down - he’s being possessive, he reminds himself, and they’re having a serious conversation. </p><p>Still, those thoughts linger in the back of his mind, and that flame burns steadily in his chest, appreciative of the sight of Jaskier wearing his clothes. </p><p>“Thank you for telling me,” Jaskier says, reaching out to take one of Geralt’s hands in his, and Geralt has to fight the urge to tangle their fingers together. “I guess it’s my turn now, huh?”</p><p>Geralt hums in affirmation, distracted by the way Jaskier’s thumb strokes over the back of his hand, and Jaskier murmurs, “I’ve been on the Path for - gods, I don’t know how long now. I wanted a break from all this witcher business, from the bloodshed and violence of it all. So I got a glamour from a mage and disguised myself as a human bard.”</p><p>“Makes sense,” Geralt muses, knowing full well how harsh life on the Path is, how it must have worn Jaskier down with the constant bloodshed and the hate from humans -while Geralt had found enjoyment on the Path, Jaskier had never known anything outside of being a witcher. It makes sense that he’d gotten tired of it and wanted an escape, the same way Geralt wanted an escape from his place at court. </p><p>“Yeah,” Jaskier agrees, a wistful look passing over his eyes. “So I travelled as a bard for a while, until I met you. I thought you were quite strange for a witcher, you know? Nothing like the other witchers I’ve met.”</p><p>“Oh,” Geralt mutters, feeling the tips of his ears start to burn and his cheeks heating up slightly. “Was it - was I obvious?”</p><p>“Well, I’d never heard of the School of the Wolf before I met you, but I figured that maybe I’d been out of touch with the rest of the witcher schools,” Jaskier says with a shrug. “Then I started following you on the Path, and there were… things that I thought were weird. You don’t fight like a witcher - and I know this because I’ve met witchers from various schools. Your potions aren’t like any witcher potion, and your signs don’t have the right feeling of chaos.”</p><p>“That’s why you kept asking me questions,” Geralt realises, remembering all the times Jaskier had pushed and asked him about his school, about his potions, about his signs, like he knew something more. “It was hard to evade your questions - I just didn’t know what to say.”</p><p>“Well, I dismissed the oddities because I thought they might have just been quirks of a new witcher school.” Jaskier glances at him, mouth quirking up sheepishly. “And, well, I didn’t want to seem like I knew a suspicious amount about witchers. I wanted to just be a normal human. Live a normal life.”</p><p>“Hardly a normal life following a witcher on the Path,” Geralt points out. “Wasn’t that precisely what you were trying to escape?”</p><p>Jaskier huffs out a laugh. “Quite ironic, isn’t it? That’s what I told myself. At first, I followed you because of the whole Wolf School thing. I stayed with you because I found myself wanting to find a friend in you, despite the fact that it would entail staying on the Path.”</p><p>Warmth blooms in Geralt’s heart and in his cheeks. Jaskier had <em>chosen</em> to stay with him. “Oh?”</p><p>“Travelling the Path as a human is different to travelling the Path as a witcher,” Jaskier explains, his thumb still tracing patterns over the back of Geralt’s hand. “I still head off to take contracts sometimes, which is how Eskel found me, but otherwise, I spent time with you. I could have let you know that I was more than capable of taking care of myself, but it’s nice not to, especially when I know that you can handle it yourself. It’s just - it’s nice, to take a step back from what I was raised and trained to do.”</p><p>“I understand.” Geralt might not have lived through the Trials and the training of a witcher - and it breaks his heart to think that Jaskier had gone through that, sweet, bright Jaskier who deserves the best and shouldn’t have been subject to any of the horrors of a witcher’s life - but it’s not hard to imagine wanting an escape from it, wanting to be free of expectations and just be someone else. “I’m not mad at you. We both kept secrets from each other, but - I can see why you did.”</p><p>“This doesn’t affect our friendship, right?” Jaskier asks, fiddling with the hem of his clothing, his voice anxious in a way that throws Geralt back into the memory of their separation, of what Jaskier must have thought of his excuses. “I mean, I completely understand if you don’t -”</p><p>“We’re still friends, Jaskier,” Geralt cuts in, keeping his tone as reassuring as possible, hating the thought of Jaskier being afraid that Geralt will reject him, that Geralt will leave him. “That is, unless you don’t want -”</p><p>“I want this!” Jaskier rushes to reassure him, and the tension in Geralt’s shoulders bleeds away. “I know things are different now, but I hope this doesn’t change anything between us.”</p><p>“I don’t see you all that differently, if that’s what you mean,” Geralt says, giving into the urge to tangle his fingers with Jaskier’s, a reassuring touch. “You’re still Jaskier, you're just - able to fight now.”</p><p>“I’m more than just <em>able to fight</em>,” Jaskier grumps, in that way he does whenever someone undervalues him and his abilities, and Geralt can’t help but smile to see that that still hasn’t changed. “I’m very good at it, thank you.”</p><p>“You are,” Geralt agrees, partly to appease Jaskier and partly because it’s true. Geralt would struggle to beat him in a fight, and isn’t <em>that</em> something to think about - Jaskier being able to match him in strength and speed and skill, Jaskier being able to take care of himself. “And to think that you could’ve protected yourself all these years instead of running to me to protect you from the latest noble you’ve offended -”</p><p>“Hey!” Jaskier objects, but he’s laughing, giving Geralt a glimpse of sharp canines, and Geralt feels something within himself lighten and right itself, feels the bleak loneliness seep away with the bright sound of Jaskier’s laugh. “Like I said, it’s nice to be protected sometimes”</p><p>“Well, if it’s that nice, you can start being the one to protect me now,” Geralt tries to tease, but it comes out softer than he’d intended, and Jaskier smiles at him, fond and sweet. </p><p>“I just did, didn’t I?” Jaskier points out, moving closer, and Geralt holds his breath until he realises that Jaskier is checking on his wounds, gentle hands brushing carefully over Geralt’s still-healing injuries. It’s only then that Geralt realises how tired he is - he hasn’t been awake for long, but his body is working to heal itself, draining him of energy. He hadn’t noticed it when talking to Jaskier, but with Jaskier’s attention on his wounds, Geralt is struck by a sudden wave of exhaustion, his tiredness made worse by the lingering effects of the shadows. “Your wounds - they’re healing faster than I expected.”</p><p>“I hid the extent of my healing abilities back when - back then,” Geralt explains, suddenly struggling to keep his eyes open, and Jaskier nods in understanding. “I’m a bit drained now, but my magic is stronger in my realm, so I’m healing faster than what you’re used to.”</p><p>“That’s good,” Jaskier murmurs, sweeping Geralt’s hair away from his face. “You look tired, Geralt. You should rest. Go back to sleep.”</p><p>“I -” It’s a struggle to hold onto consciousness, but the thought of Jaskier heading back to sharpening his knives, the thought of Jaskier’s warmth leaving him - “Stay with me?”</p><p>“I’ll stay,” Jaskier reassures him gently, but Geralt shakes his head, tugging at Jaskier’s hand, still held in his, pulling him closer to Geralt. “Geralt, what are you -”</p><p>“Stay,” Geralt whispers, tired but insistent, and slowly, tentatively, Jaskier lowers himself down, his body a long line of warmth against Geralt. He’s holding himself stiffly, tense and awkward, like he isn’t sure what to do with his limbs, and Geralt can’t have that - he tugs Jaskier closer, and Jaskier goes willingly, carefully slinging an arm around Geralt.</p><p>Though Jaskier’s body - the body of a witcher, hardened by training and made broad and strong by the Path - is still unfamiliar to Geralt, the warmth of it is the same as the times they’ve curled up together by a campfire or on the creaky bed of an inn, as is the full feeling in his chest whenever he’s pressed close to Jaskier, and Geralt feels his body relax, natural and instinctive.</p><p>Surrounded by the circle of Jaskier’s arms, by his scent - the scent Geralt has always associated with <em>home</em> - Geralt drifts off, cocooned in comfort and warmth and love. </p><p>When he wakes up, Jaskier is still there, pressed close against him and looking at Geralt with an affectionate, tentative smile, and Geralt smiles back, relishing in the knowledge that Jaskier is here, with him, in his realm, both of their selves laid bare and honest and open.</p><p>Looking at the tenderness in Jaskier’s bright blue eyes, sinking into the warmth of Jaskier’s touch, Geralt thinks that this - this must be what contentment feels like.</p>
<hr/><p>Geralt heals, his wounds closing up and his strength returning to him, all while Jaskier stays by his side, taking care of him, and it’s not the first time that Jaskier has stayed by his side throughout his recovery from a fight, but Geralt has always loved being the sole focus of Jaskier’s attention - it never gets old, and Geralt cherishes it every time.</p><p>He doesn’t know what will happen after this. He doesn’t know whether they will return to the Path together, or whether Jaskier will head off alone and do his duties as a witcher, leaving Geralt alone. Regardless of what will happen, Geralt still isn’t strong enough to bring them back to the human world, so he grasps at the time he has left with Jaskier, offering to show Jaskier around his realm once he’s strong enough to move on his own.</p><p>He shows Jaskier the places where he’d grown up, the stables where Roach resides, the grand hallways of his palace, the training grounds, where Jaskier insists on teaching Geralt a few witcher moves. They spar for some time, and Geralt has to refrain from staring too hard at the way Jaskier’s arms flex as he swings his sword at Geralt. Heat flutters in his stomach as he witnesses the easy competence with which Jaskier wields his sword and the lethal grace in his movements, and when they’re done, Jaskier pinning him to the ground with sword at his throat and a triumphant grin, Geralt leaves the training grounds more than a little flustered, a little warm in the face. </p><p>He shows Jaskier the villages on the outskirts of the forest, where young children wrap around his legs and clamour in fascination at his round ears and catlike eyes - Jaskier is popular with children no matter where he goes, it seems. Jaskier plays with them, singing for them and indulging their antics, and Geralt can’t help but watch him with a fond smile as the children demand yet another story from him. </p><p>He shows Jaskier the towns and cities, filled with bustling people and vibrant colour, and they spend a day in the biggest city, flitting around streets and markets and buildings. Geralt watches Jaskier fawn over the fascinating objects he finds in shops and stalls with a fond smile, eventually giving in to Jaskier’s pleading eyes and buying him an ornately decorated silver dagger, rare gems from the fae realm embedded in the hilt, along with a set of elegant robes the colour of the twilight sky that Geralt can’t help but buy when he sees how breathtakingly beautiful Jaskier looks in them.</p><p>He shows Jaskier the large, frozen lake that is the jewel of his realm, and brings Jaskier to the peaks of snowy mountains, where they chuck clumps of snow at each other and chase each other around, laughter ringing through the chilly air until they tire themselves out, collapsing on the ground with matching grins, laughing themselves breathless. </p><p>And he shows Jaskier his favourite place in the realm, the place where he goes when he needs to be alone, when he needs comfort, when he needs to bring his spirits up. It’s at one end of the frozen lake, close to the boundary between the Winter Court and the Spring Court, where a few flowers peek out from underneath the frost, bright buds with snowflakes glittering on their colourful petals.</p><p>It’s nearly nightfall. The sun is sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in gorgeous hues of pink and orange, and Geralt sits himself down on the ground, back against the trunk of a tree, beckoning Jaskier to join him, which Jaskier does without hesitation, leaning back against the tree with him. </p><p>“Your realm is so beautiful,” Jaskier sighs out happily, eyes roaming the sight before him, taking in the thin layer of frost that covers the ground, the snowflakes drifting down from the sky to land on the various flowers dotted around the landscape, growing on the edge of the Spring Court. And Geralt watches him, watches the dim light catch on the angles of Jaskier’s face, the inhumanly bright hue of his eyes, the tilt of his lips. “Just - wow. It’s nothing like the human world - everything here is just… exquisite.”</p><p><em>You’re beautiful</em>, Geralt doesn’t say, instead humming in response, unable to tear his eyes away from Jaskier and the sheer wonder on his face. It warms his heart to see that Jaskier sees so much beauty in his realm, and fondness fills him as Jaskier starts waxing poetic about his surroundings, embellishing the beauty of the flowers and the snow and the sky, musing about how he could possibly work it all into a song without revealing too much about the realm itself. </p><p>The sky darkens. Geralt stays silent, listening to Jaskier transition from talking to singing softly to himself, smiling when he realises that it’s a song that one of the villagers from his realm had taught Jaskier a couple of days ago, an elegant folk song that brings back fond memories of his distant childhood, running wild with the village children and being doted on by their parents. </p><p>Soon. The pinks and purples of the sky start giving way to the dark blue of twilight, and Geralt lets out a breath, nudging Jaskier. </p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>As Jaskier turns his head to glance at him, Geralt mumbles awkwardly, “I - uh - I want to show you something. This is no music festival, but…” he swallows as Jaskier keeps attentive, curious eyes on him, waiting patiently for what Geralt has to say. “I wanted to show you this.”</p><p>“This?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt points to the sky. </p><p>As the sky darkens further, small spheres of light flicker into existence, bobbing around in the air before them in a myriad of colours, each one no bigger than their hands - spheres of shimmering light floating in the air before them, casting the landscape in dancing colours, brightening up the darkness of the night as the sun disappears. </p><p>“Oh,” Jaskier breathes out, staring in open-mouthed wonder as he reaches out tentatively with one hand, watching as a small blue sphere of light passes through his fingers. “This is - this is beautiful, Geralt, what <em>are</em> these?”</p><p>“No one really knows,” Geralt confesses with a shrug. “They’re a mystery. It’s theorised that it has something to do with the boundary between the Winter and Spring Courts that’s causing this phenomena to happen, something about the clash and dichotomy between the two realms, but no one has confirmed that. It doesn’t matter to me, though. I just like coming here and just… look at these sometimes.”</p><p>“I can see why,” Jaskier murmurs, still wide-eyed as he gazes out at the sight before him, the vibrant, exotic flowers of the Spring Court illuminated by the spheres of light, the flurries of snowflakes changing colour as they pass through various spheres, the spots of light reflected in the frozen surface of the lake, filling the night sky. </p><p>It’s a sight Geralt has seen thousands of times - a sight that he’s taken so much comfort in, a sight that never fails to steal his breath away - so he turns his attention to Jaskier, whose face is bathed in the shifting, dancing colours of light. He looks almost ethereal, the light illuminating the sharp angles of his face and sharpening the startling blue of his eyes, and Geralt can do nothing but stare, drinking him in. </p><p>“Just - wow,” Jaskier whispers, hand dropping back to his side as he twists to look at Geralt. “I have no words, this is…”</p><p>He trails off when he catches Geralt staring, and Geralt almost jerks back, heat rising to his cheeks at being caught staring so openly and unabashedly at Jaskier, his feelings undoubtedly spilled all over his face. But Jaskier doesn’t flinch away from him, doesn’t turn away; his expression softens in awed realisation, and he brings up one hand, brushing his fingers over Geralt’s cheek, tender and gentle. </p><p>“Geralt…” </p><p>No one says his name quite like Jaskier, with such open affection and soft sweetness, and it’s only natural, then, for Geralt to lean forward and capture Jaskier’s lips in a tentative kiss. Jaskier immediately kisses back, arms curling around Geralt’s waist and bringing them closer, closer, as Geralt’s hand goes up to cup Jaskier’s cheek, thumb stroking tenderly over the raised skin of his scar. </p><p>It’s not heated or passionate or frenzied - this is slow, sweet, gentle, their bodies twining together under the dancing lights of the shimmering spheres, intimate in a way that can only come with years and years of intimate familiarity. </p><p>Geralt never thought he could have this. But here they are, pressed against each other, no more secrets between them as Jaskier traces his fingers over the pointed tips of Geralt’s ears and Geralt thumbs gently over the line of Jaskier’s facial scar. He never thought he could be this lucky - but this is real, Jaskier is <em>here</em>, and there’s nothing Geralt wants more, love and contentment settling deep in his heart. </p><p>He’s been searching for this feeling for so long, trying to find it in his realm, in the human world, on the Path - and here, he’s found it in Jaskier, with the truth laid open between them, this feeling of something <em>more</em>, something that slots into place in his heart, something <em>right. </em></p><p>When Geralt pulls away, Jaskier is smiling and slightly breathless, cheeks flushed, and Geralt stares some more, knowing how dazed and smitten he must look but unable to bring himself to care - if there’s one person in the world who Geralt will allow himself to be this open with, it’s Jaskier, who sees all of who Geralt is, who knows him and cares for him and loves him in a way no one else does.</p><p>“Oh,” Jaskier breathes, blinking at Geralt in wonder and disbelief. “That was - that was nice. Wow. Nicer than these lights around us, certainly. Very -”</p><p>Geralt cuts off Jaskier’s babbling by drawing him into another kiss, and Jaskier happily complies, burying his hands in Geralt’s hair and tugging insistently at him to come closer. So Geralt lets himself be pulled onto Jaskier’s lap, settling himself on strong thighs as he deepens the kiss, capturing Jaskier’s soft sigh with his lips. </p><p>Geralt sinks into the warmth of Jaskier’s body, basking in the tenderness of it all. He’s so, so glad that he’d gone along with Lambert’s ploy, so glad that he’d weathered those harsh years on the Path - and he would do so a thousand times over if it meant that he would end up here, in Jaskier’s arms, with his heart glowing bright with deep contentment, like he’s home at long last. </p><p>They keep kissing for a while until Jaskier breaks the kiss, tangling his fingers with Geralt’s as he turns his attention back to the shimmering spheres.</p><p>“Shame that we won’t get to see this on the Path,” Jaskier muses wistfully, stretching out his arm once again, fingers curling in the air as the spheres float past his hand. “Would be nice to see it every day.”</p><p>The sweet glow of hope enters Geralt’s chest. He hadn’t been sure about what would happen after this since they hadn’t talked about it, but Jaskier speaks like there’s no question that they’re returning to the Path together. “The Path?”</p><p>Jaskier shoots him an amused look. “Yes, the Path. You know, the one we’ve travelled together on for two decades?”</p><p>Geralt can’t help but smile, relieved and joyous. “You’re coming back on the Path with me?”</p><p>“Of course I am, silly,” Jaskier says with a roll of his eyes, bumping their shoulders together. “What else would I do?”</p><p><em>Leave me</em>. But it’s a stupid thought, one that is immediately banished by how easily Jaskier talks about returning to the Path together, by the memory of the soft press of Jaskier’s lips against his, and Geralt brings their foreheads together, eternally grateful that he’d decided to go along with Lambert’s risky ploy from deacdes ago, that he’d gone into the human world and met Jaskier, who has brought him so much joy, who has given him contentment, who loves him like no one else. </p><p>“You have to pull your own weight now,” Geralt warns playfully, and Jaskier grins, bright and happy. “Now that I know you’re not a helpless human bard, you’d better help me on contracts.”</p><p>“You just want to watch me fight,” Jaskier purrs, winking, and Geralt flushes, caught out - Jaskier must have noticed how flustered he’d gotten when they sparred together a couple of days ago. Who can blame him? Jaskier is extremely attractive when he’s fighting, especially when he pins Geralt down with a knee on his chest and a sword to his throat, letting out a low purr of, <em>yield?</em></p><p>They certainly need to spar together more. Or perhaps Jaskier can spar, and Geralt can just watch -</p><p>“Hm,” is what he says in lieu of answering, and Jaskier laughs at him, eyes twinkling with mirth and lit by the spheres of light. </p><p>“Well, once you regain your strength, we’ll head back onto the Path, together,” Jaskier whispers, sounding serious now, their faces close enough that the warmth of his breath fans out across Geralt’s cheek. “That sound good to you?”</p><p>“Together,” Geralt repeats, unable to stop the sappy smile from spreading across his face. “You’ll stay with me?”</p><p>“Always,” Jaskier says, the promise ringing true in his voice, and Geralt brings their lips together once more, heart overflowing with affection.</p><p>He and Jaskier on the Path, together. He no longer needs to worry about Jaskier’s human fragility or his short lifespan - Jaskier can take care of himself, and they have centuries ahead of them, centuries that Geralt hopes they will spend together, staying by each other’s side.</p><p>Encircled in the comfort of Jaskier’s arms, heart blooming bright with warmth and love, Geralt is content.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>feel free to come scream at me on my tumblr <a href="https://jaskicr.tumblr.com/">@jaskicr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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